The Girl In The Box
by Rye-bread
Summary: A sequel to CaptainKodak's "A Box Of Cuddlebuddies". No longer a tale of horror, but of bittersweetness.
1. Chapter 1

Part two of Captainkodak's (id678376) story, (id3688706) with his permission. Be warned. I have opted not to make it a tale of horror, but it is still a tale of sadness

_**A BOX OF CUDDLEBUDDIES**_

_**CHPT 2. THE GIRL IN THE BOX**_

It was Saturday night and the proprietor of the service station was outside, emptying his bags of trash into the dumpster in back of the restaurant next door. His bags of trash hit a bag of trash already dumped in.

The sound of the bags hitting didn't sound right. He was used to the rattle of paper and the clink of cans and bottles. But this had a rustle. He fished the bag out and opened. He saw the backpack. Strange. He scratched his mullet-style hair. He didn't throw that in. He opened the buckle.

The contents startled him. A face mask--of a certain face. He pulled a cell phone out of his coverall pocket. "Yo. Cuz. Something's up. Seriously. It has to do with Red. Yeah, your arch-enemy--_that _Red. Haul your ass over here."

In half an hour, a hovercraft landed in back of the Ed Lipsky Fuel Stop. Drakken, dressed in a tux, and Shego, dressed in a diaphanous evening gown, hopped out.

Motor Ed came out, torque wrench in one hand, can of beer in the other. "Yo, Cuz. Good to see ya! And you brought your lady! Hey! Dig the formal threads! Damn! Y'all are stylin'!"

Drakken grumbled. "Shego and I were having dinner at our Alpine lair, Ed. Candlelight. Roses. Champaign. This had better be good."

Ed shook heartily shook hands and slapped his cousin on the shoulder. "Dude, there's your problem. Mountain lairs. Death rays. Candlelight dinners. It's all too high-maintenance. Only a set of wheels deserves that kind of attention. Now take me. My approach to life is simpler. A couple steaks on the grill, a couple six-packs to wash it down with, somebody like your lady here in cut-off shorts and a halter top--now _there's _a night out." He leered at Shego and lifted an eyebrow suggestively.

Shego frowned. "Thanks but no thanks, grease monkey. This lady prefers some elegance." What a baboon! She had actually been thinking about starting a family with Drakken, but if the Lipsky's had Motor Ed material in the gene pool--well, they could always adopt. Maybe a sperm donation from Señor Senior, Jr...

Ed shrugged. "Your loss, babe. Seriously, cuz, I gotta admire your knack with how you travel. Take this flying thing. Put an extended cab on it, a pickup bed, and chrome bumpers and tailpipes, and you got yourself a serious ride."

Drakken crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. "I'm waiting, Ed. You found something pertaining to Kimberly Ann."

For answer, Ed jerked his head toward the service station. "C'mon in."

Shego and Drakken followed Ed in. "Either of you wanna brew?" Ed asked.

Both Shego and Drakken shook their heads.

Ed lifted up the backpack. Drakken took it and peered in--and pulled out the Kim Possible face mask.

Shego snatched the mask from his hand. Drakken pulled out the KissyFace lip gloss.

"That's Kimmie's brand of lip gloss!" said Shego.

Ed glanced warily at both of them. "You guys are up on what kind of make-up Red uses?" And they called _him_ obsessed with Red.

Shego's eyes narrowed. "D--what does it mean?"

Drakken frowned. (Shego had called him different endearing nicknames now that they were in an intimate relationship. None of them quite worked. 'Drew-bee' made her chuckle and him glower. 'Lip-pey'? 'Drak-key'? They made him ballistic. 'D' seemed to work best.) "This calls for analysis. Come on, Shego. We're going to one of my--our--local lairs." He shook Ed's hand. "Thank you, Ed. You may have done the first good thing in years."

Motor Ed shook his head in confusion. "This wigs me out, cuz. Seriously. I mean, like you and Red on the same side, saving the world. You and her--" he inclined his head toward Shego. "--Hooked up. I gotta get used to this."

Drakken and Shego flew to a local lair and subjected the backpack and its contents to a battery of diagnostic tests.

"I can lift fingerprints from the backpack, Drak," said Shego with a smirk. "I've checked them with prints of Kimmie's friends on our file. They belong to Tara King from the Cheer Squad."

(Rhyming--how cutesy. Drakken frowned again.) "What about the bikini and the air tank?"

"The fingerprints on the air tank are those of Tara King. The epithelial on the bikini are female--probably hers. But there are also older traces of other epithelials--Kimmie's."

"And the water traces are freshwater--and not tap water. There's a nearby lake." Drakken punched some buttons on the control panel.

"What are you looking for, D?" asked Shego.

"I don't know. I'm a mad scientist. I build death rays. I try conquering the world. I used to try building death traps. Forensic investigation is a new endeavor for me. But something about this suggests foul play."

Shego peered over the shoulder. "That's a satellite picture--a lake."

"Lovelorn Lake," said Drakken. A local hang-out. It has a reputation of being the final resting place for several heartbroken girls who decided to drown their sorrow--and themselves."

"D! You sound like you've been there!"

Drakken frowned. "I had all of a handful of dates in college. I took a young lady--a med student--there on one cookout. It didn't work out. She became the wife of my college roomie and lifelong rival--James Timothy Possible."

Shego's eyes bulged. "You mean you and Annette? Drew Lipsky and the future mother of Kim Possible? Omigod! Hahahahahahaha...!"

Drakken cringed. "You're not helping my self esteem, Shego. Your demeanor of respect isn't any better as a lover than it was as a sidekick."

Shego wiped the laugh tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry, D.! Really. Or like cousin Ed would say--seriously. Hahahahahahahah...!"

Drakken silently endured the humiliation.

Shego recovered and kissed him on the cheek. "Okay. It's better. I'm recovered. I'll behave."

"Well, while you've been having your fun, I've analyzed the lake waters. My infrared and ultraviolet scans show. There are no recently deceased bodies in the lake other than dead fish and small animals, like squirrels."

"But look!" Shego pointed to a section of the shore. "Unless I'm mistaken, that's a picnic and beach area. And unless I'm mistaken, that's Kimmie's car!"

"Shego! You're right! That's The Spot!"

At Shego's inquiring look, Drakken explained.

"It's the recreation area--families by day, couples by night."

"Let me guess," she drawled. "It's where you tried to get to second base with Mrs. Dr. Possible."

"Let's stick to the topic at hand, shall we?" grumbled Drakken.

"D! We've got to go on site! Let's get out of these fancy clothes."

It was after midnight when the hovercraft landed at The Spot. Some teen couples were in the back seats of their cars.

"Look!"

"Izzat a UFO?"

"Ew! He's got blue skin--and she's got pale skin!"

Shego ignited her hands. "You kids! Scram!"

"Holy crud! It's Shego!" And their cars all peeled out, tires squealing.

"Well--whatever happens with Kimmie, the cops are gonna know that we were here," said Shego.

"We'll deal with that later. We have some reconnoitering to do." Drakken snapped on a powerful lamp. "Here are footprints going from the car to the lake."

"And here are towels spread out on the sand." Shego dusted the steering wheel of the car. "D! Tara's fingerprints on the interior of the car!"

"Miss King went through a lot of trouble to set this up," muttered Drakken. "Now the question is, where's Kimberly--or her body?"

"I found tire tracks of the car leading from the road," said Shego.

"Shego--scan those tracks!"

In a moment, the hovercraft was following the trail of the car from its aerial position.

"D," asked Shego, "Tell me again how this works."

"Well--we digitally photograph the tire tracks. The computer analyses them based on multiple identification points--much like fingerprint, or facial recognition."

"Or like retinal scan."

"Exactly. And then we backtrack them, using the laser scan."

But the tracks by the lake were on a dirt road. How's it work now that we're above a concrete road?"

"Faint traces of rubber are left. We can digitally enhance them."

"Like a bloodhound following a certain scent through all the other scents."

Shego nibbled his ear. "Your plans for world conquest suck rocks, D, but you make detective work as fun as crime."

Drakken allowed himself a small smile. Shego was worth a hundred Bebe's he used to build.

The trail led them to a house. "D, the trail shows that the car had pulled into this house from another direction--and then pulled out to the lake." She pointed to the Global Positioning screen with map overlay. "This is the King house."

"Let's land, Shego. My instincts are telling me to stop."

"Drak--that cistern is excavated--and sealed. I get this deja vu. It's like the death traps we devised for Kimmie. I don't like it."

Drakken aimed with a sound analysis device. "I'm detecting sounds from inside the cistern--Kimmie's voiceprints!"

Shego's hands ignited. "Cover your eyes! I'm gonna blast this thing open!"

"No! Wait!" Drakken took a telescoping pry bar from the hovercraft. "We want to leave the scene exactly as we found it!"

A girl's terrorized wail floated up through the cistern. Desperately, they redoubled their efforts.

Shego dropped into the cistern and activated her power. The ghostly green glow illuminated the cistern. Kim was cringing in a corner, chained to the wall.

"Please Tara, NO! For the love of GOD! NO!"

Shego gasped. "Oh, Princess--what happened to you?"

Drakken unrolled a rope ladder and climbed down.

Kim shrank in terror. "OMYGOD! OMYGOD! YOU TWO!"

Shego slowly approached Kim. "Shh. Kim--it's okay. We're here to get you out." She hugged the frightened girl.

Kim trembled in Shego's embrace. "You won't leave me here--in the dark?"

"No, sweetie. We're going to take you home. There's food--and a warm bed."

"Promise me you won't turn the lights out?"

"I promise."

"You'll stay with me?"

"Like glue, hon."

Shego watched Drakken pull out a device shaped like an ink pen. She recognized it--an air jet gun for hypodermic injection. Shego nodded. He pressed it against Kim's shoulder and pushed. There was a sound like a hiss of air and Kim went limp in Shego's arms.

"I sedated her. She's showing signs of severe psychological trauma--and the beginnings of oxygen deprivation."

Shego carried Kim to the hovercraft and cradled her in her arms.

Drakken restored the cistern to its previous state--ironically, as Tara had done only hours before.

They were silent as the hovercraft sped back to the lair. Shego wrapped Kim protectively in her embrace and Drakken wrapped himself in his thoughts.

At the lair, Shego laid Kim on a cushioned examination table.

"Drak? Are you going to use the brain tap machine?"

"I've got to. It's my only resort. I have to ascertain the degree of injury. I'll conduct a low level scan."

He attached the electrodes and threw the switch. He carefully studied the oscillating pattern on the readout. "It's as I thought. Severe emotional trauma, coupled with slight brain damage."

Shego's gaze became forlorn.

Drakken shook his head wearily. "I don't know to what degree, but she won't be the same Kim we used to know. She'll be functional, but at a child's level."

Shego had to run from the room for a moment. The thought of that powerful warrior girl reduced to this--when Shego was sure she wouldn't burst into tears, she came back--and had to leave again.

She gently bathed Kim, dressed her in a nightgown, and put her to bed.

They sat with steaming mugs of Cocoa-Moo. It was time to seriously discuss matters.

"Drakken, what are we going to do? Someone tried to bury her alive--probably her 'friend' Tara. There's means--and opportunity. The motivation was probably jealously over Kimmie's sidekick boyfriend."

"I would tend to agree," he said quietly.

"Her family is going to miss her! And we're a couple felons on probation!"

"I know."

"And I might be thinking like a felon, but who are people going to believe--even with the evidence? A couple ex-cons, or little Miss Goldilocks?"

Drakken sighed. It was good jailhouse wisdom. No one would believe him and Shego. Not Global Justice. Not the Possible's. Not Ron Stoppable. "I have an idea, Shego. It's almost as asinine as one of my conquer-the-world schemes--and if you can think of anything better, please don't hesitate to tell me."

Kim stirred. And yawned. And opened her eyes.

A tall, broad-shouldered boy with olive skin and black hair smiled. "Hiya, hon. How ya doin?"

Kim blinked and squinted. "Huh? Who--?"

"It's me. Erik. Your Prom date. Your boyfriend. That accident really shook you up. Dr. Lipsky was afraid you wouldn't wake up--but here you are."

Kim propped herself by her elbows. "Erik?"

"Yeah. Our dance at the Prom. They played our song. We kissed."

Kim put her hand to her head. "Oh, God--I'm trying to remember--this awful nightmare--little toys from Bueno Nacho that grew into giant robots--you tried to electrocute me--"

"Electrocute you?" asked Erik, alarmed. "Sounds terrible!"

"The dance! I remember! Oh, Erik!" And she clung to him. "Omigod! Please! Just hold me for a minute!"

"Kim! Sure I will!" And he clung to her.

Shego and Drakken watched on closed circuit television. "You're right, D. This is one funky scheme."

"Maybe we can wean her back to reality--someday. But for now, she needs treatment--and comfort. She knows Ron Stoppable too well on a subconscious level--she would detect a fake in a moment. But an Erik android--maybe." Dr. Drakken sighed. "And I've got to create a virtual world for her--with holographic imaging, if I have to. As much like as her real world as I can."

**_to be continued_**


	2. Chpt 2: The Girl in the Fishbowl

Solarstone: same ending as Cap's? In a way. Kim going after Tara? Again, in a way. A fun ending? I wish.

Captainkodak1: thank you for the vote of confidence. Hope I keep your attention.

LTAOZFAN: Shego paying back Tara? Yes, you will see something to that effect--in a future ep. "Keep writing", eh? OK, here goes:

Lon Wolfgood and Drakonis Aurous: thanx for the reviews!

We would all like it if Kim and Ron connected and lived happily ever after. But in the original story "A Box of Cuddlebuddies", there's a five year gap between Kim's imprisonment and Tara's marriage to Ron. That means that even if I cook up a scenario that rescues Kim (like I did) she's out of circulation for five years. That's a decent amount of time for Tara to put her scheme into practice. Comforting Ron, seducing him (let's call a spade a spade), marrying him.

Where's Kim all this time? I doubt you're going to like the scenario I came up with. But that's how the Plot Bunny goes. And unless I dream up something that messes around with time travel, what you read is the most realistic thing I could fashion--assuming Drakken's the genius the show makes him out to be.

Not the happy ending? I know. But that's real-life. And I think my readers are smart enough to want a story that looks something like real life.

At its best, life is bittersweet. May God grant that we all die reconciled with our God and with each other, with no loose ends or unfinished business.

I cooked up the scene before the judge involving Drakken and Shego's release. Is it realistic? Legally accurate? Hope so. If any reader can inform me different, lemme know.

Drew Lipsky's dilemma is the same as yours or mine. Trying to do the right thing--and botching it up. Knowing enough to be responsible, but afraid to take responsibility. And messing up lives over it.

The Good Book says we are blessed if we suffer for being right--but if we suffer for doing wrong--well, that's our own fault.

The disclaimers. The characters are from the Disney show. The plot is inspired by Captainkodak1's story.

_**A BOX OF CUDDLEBUDDIES**_

_**CHPT 3. THE GIRL IN THE FISHBOWL**_

For two weeks the combined forces of the Middleton Police and Fire Departments, the Upperton and Lowerton Police and Fire Departments, the Sheriff's Deputies, the State Police, members of the National Guard and Army Reserve, tracking dogs searched the several dozen square mile areas around Lovelorn Lake. Inch by inch. They linked hands and covered sections of ground repeatedly. They probed the soil with rods, looking for pits, freshly dug-and-covered holes, bodies--anything. Bushes were poked through. Blades of tall grass were brushed through. Aerial scans by choppers--infra-red, ultra-violet, every wavelength of the electromagnetic spectrum. Every foot of shoreline, every cove, inlet, outlet was searched--time and again.

For two weeks the divers combed the depths of Lovelorn Lake. The boaters crisscrossed the lake dozens of times. The rescue workers dragged the lakebed.

The army of volunteers from every state in the Union, and many foreign countries were as numerous as the official military and law enforcement searchers. They did the same things and went over the same areas. Some were those Kim and Ron had helped on innumerable missions. Some were merely admirers.

What was remarkable was the spirit of cooperation and humility. Everyone did what was asked of them. No one took it upon themselves to throw their weight or complain loudly about "slowness" or "incompetence" or "cover-up". No one tried to capitalize on the situation.

There were so many searchers that some were stationed to man the phones, snack tents, and rest facilities.

For two weeks Kim's car was disassembled and minutely inspected. The sands of Moosetrack Beach were raked and sifted for clues. Profilers and forensic examiners from the state police, FBI, and Global Justice

appeared. Kim's former foes were interrogated. Anyone in the Tri-City area with a record was interrogated.

The graduates of the Middleton Class of 2006 were interviewed. The former members of the Cheer Squad were interviewed. Bonnie Rockwaller gladly submitted to a polygraph exam. Her eyes were red from crying and sleeplessness. Her old haughty manner was subdued as her lifelong rival was now absent. She hardly slept fas she joined the brigade of volunteers that searched day and night. Asking the rest of the Cheer Squad was deemed unnecessary and inappropriate, and the matter was forgotten.

For two weeks Tara King did not sleep. She was jumpy and nervous. She had not anticipated the scale of the search-and-rescue operation. She felt like the eyes of the world were upon her. She joined the rest of her class as the students and alumni of Middleton High School joined the other volunteers in the search. She tried to look the part with everyone else, inspecting every bush and square foot of the grassy area around the lake. Word spread like wildfire about footprints and bicycle tire tracks found at Campfire Cove.

Campfire Cove was where Tara had swum ashore. She felt faint and queasy when she heard, but no one noticed. Anticipation was high. TV and radio broadcasts were interrupted with the special news bulletin. The Mayor announced that a break in the case was imminent.

Tara wanted to go back to the cistern and pry it open. Surely Kim might still be alive. There were stories of people surviving for days trapped in the wilderness, in caves, or on mountain peaks. Surely Kim would forgive her. She was that kind of friend. Surely Tara could make amends. She called Pastor Davis one night. He thought it was just grief for Kim. But Tara almost blurted it out. The torment of her conscience was a special kind of hell. She began to fear for her soul.

But the footprints and tracks led nowhere. The ground was too trampled from previous searchers.

At last the search was called off. Kim was declared missing and legally dead. People went back to their agency, office, state, and country.

And Tara's insistent conscience quieted down. At last. She had kept her head. Her plan had worked. She was overlooked.

The public memorial service was held two months after Kim's disappearance. It was the largest in Middleton's history.

Betty Director was present. The Governor of Colorado was present. The Vice President was present. Kim's Nana was in a wheelchair. She had suffered a stroke. Tara's conscience pricked her slightly. But sitting next to Ron and being able to hold his hand salved that guilt.

Tara even gave the oriental girl--Yoriko what's-her-name from Japan--the first opportunity to comfort Ron. Because Yoriko eventually went back home--and Tara remained.

Tara put the second part of her plan into effect. Becoming Ron's emotional mainstay. As imperceptible as a sand dune moving grain by grain. Gradual. Ever so slow. She did not flirt, or divulge any secret unrequited love. She was merely there. And when Ron wanted to be alone, Tara quietly nodded and departed his company, after giving him a peck on the cheek and whispered "Call me if you need to talk. I'm here for you."

And he always did.

Tara was worried once when she overheard Ron talking with Kim's mother.

"Mrs.Dr.P.! Kim didn't die in the lake! I think she's still alive! I can feel it!"

Tara had heard of Ron's supernatural ninja abilities. It made her wonder--and tremble--and want to dig up the cistern--just to see. She started to have nightmares of a zombie Kim.

But Anne Possible prevailed upon Ron. "We had all of Wade's science--Global Justice's and the federal government's resources--at our disposal. Let her rest in peace, Ron. And let yourself rest, too. Jim and I have made peace with her departure. Let life go on. Find someone special."

A year after Kim's disappearance, Dr. Drew Lipsky founded the Matilda Lipsky Clinic--named after his mother. It specialized in physical and mental therapy and recovery of patients who were victims of brain damage and were deemed untreatable. Patients were admitted without regard of ability to pay. Dr. Anne Possible referred some of her patients to the Clinic.

The basis of his therapy was Interactive Holographic Therapy. In collaberation with his old college roommates, James Timothy Possible and Ronald Chen, Dr. Lipsky built a modified EEG machine. It identified the areas of the brain that had suffered physical and emotional trauma. He did not incorporate the technology of his brain scan device. It was too intrusive. It was unethical. And Drew Lipsky was now an ethical man. Patients were accorded a dignity, a respect. They were entitled to privacy of their innermost secrets.

The brain scan machine was dismantled, as were many of Dr. Drakken's old devices. The technology of the brain scan machine was erased from existance. Drew could rebuild any of his devices at a moment's notice. But he was thoroughly reformed--a moral conversion so profound that it was religious. The technology Dr. Drakken used to use so casually--like the computer chip he used to make Shego a domestic goddess--and the silly hats he used to make his scientific rivals blithering idiots--was now utterly anathema to Dr. Lipsky.

Drew Lipsky was philosophical man as well as a scientific genius. He was under no illusions about human nature and unscrupulous researchers. Someone would replicate his science someday--and use it do control and degrade people. But not by his efforts--or cooperation.

But based on the data he would obtain from his advanced device--coupled with the patient's medical, personal, and family history, Dr Lipsky would reconstruct the patient's world--their home, job, family, friends--everything--and allow the patient to experience as much of their old normal life as they could without the emotional trauma. For this, Drew Lipsky would employ the full extent of his scientific genius. The holographic replica's of the patient's surroundings and loved ones--programmed for accurate behavior--in strict cooperation with the patient's designated power-of-attorney representative..

Patients lived in a safe, controlled environment. By degrees, they regained normalcy and were able to be integrated into their former lives. After intense scrutinity and investigative protocol by the F.D.A. and other federal watchdog agencies, his therapy was approved.

Drew Lipsky's former criminal associate Sheila Go was now his research assistant. She resumed her studies that she had interrupted when she abandoned Team Go and her law enforcement career. In a year, she had her master's degree in cybertronics. In two years, she had her doctorate.

Five years after Kim's disappearance, Tara Rene King and Ronald Eugene Stoppable were joined in holy matrimony.

A week after the wedding, Jim Possible called upon his former college roommate. "Old friend--let me take you to lunch, today--my treat."

And Drew accepted. He shared with his medical colleague--his former criminal cohort--his lover--his lifemate. "Today is the day, Sheila--I feel it. Jim is going to broach the question--if I know anything about Kim's disappearance. I have no idea how this will turn out. Good men will commit murder out of hatred." He bowed his shoulders, dejected.

Sheila kissed and embraced him. "I have faith in Jim Possible, dear. But if we're separated by prison--or death--it's been a good life. You've taught me how to love. When I ditched Team Go, my family ditched me. You took me in. You put up with all my hassle. When Warmonga appeared, and we somehow ended up on the same side as Kim and Ron, you somehow talked me into leaving my old life behind. I'm not a wanted criminal. I've made something of my life."

Jim and Drew had their meal and made small talk at the corner booth of a small downtown cafe. "Anne and I were hoping Ron would invite you and Sheila to the wedding. It was a beautiful ceremony."

Drew shook his head. "To tell you the truth, Jim, I don't think Ron has ever gotten over the old enmity--Dr. Drakken and Shego versus Team Possible. And to be frank, I don't know if Sheila and have ever been comfortable with the former Miss King. She always seemed too manipulative--worming gradually into Ron's confidences."

"Drew," said Jim in mild protest, "It's been five years. More than long enough. It was high time for Ron to move on--even if we never can."

And at the end of their meal, they were laughing over old memories

"Drew, I'm glad we could have lunch together," said Jim.

"Me, too, Jim. I look back and smile now at some of the stupid schemes I had," said Drew.

"I'm kind of ashamed of how Ramesh, Chen, and I acted," said Jim. "We treated you shabbily sometimes. We made fun of your inability to get a date--as though we were--how do they call it?--'Babe Magnets'."

Both Jim and Drew laughed.

"You realize, don't you, I was dating Anne before you were," said Drew. "The only reason she found you more endearing than me was because you were more pitiful."

Jim clutched his chest with his hands in mock pain. "Oh, Drew--that hurt!"

"Well," laughed Drew, "It's true!"

The tone of the conversation became sober. "And both Sheila and I need to apologize, Jim," said Drew contritely. "To the world, to this city, to your family--." He became very silent.

Jim reached out a comforting hand. "I've already forgiven you, Drew. You and Sheila have made a good life together. I only wish Kim were here to see it."

"I did your daughter the most wrong, Jim. I wish circumstances were--different."

Jim looked down at the table. "It's been the hardest thing I ever did--trying to survive Kim's loss."

Drew was silent.

Jim looked intently at his old friend. "Drew--I've watched you these past five years. You're not the man I knew in college. You're not the man I knew as Dr. Drakken."

Drew nodded. "It was that battle where Sheila and I joined forces with Kim and Ron against Warmonga. It was a spiritual awakening. When I saw the awful damage that creature's machines did to the world--I was reminded what **I** had done to the world with my Little Diablos--your stolen technology. It made me ashamed. I found a joy in helping my former enemy--and a joy in sharing with Sheila what your daughter shared with the man she loved."

Jim looked like he would faint with dread. "I'm glad for you, Drew--both as a friend and a colleague. As far as I'm concerned, you've more than atoned for your actions as Dr. Drakken. But I want to tell you the real reason I came to see you today--."

"Go on, Jim," encouraged Drew. "You can ask anything of me."

"Drew--." Jim struggled to make the words come out. "I know you cared deeply about Kimmie's disappearance. There were rumors--among the academic and scientific community--some wondered if you couldn't have used your talents to help in the search for her."

Drew nodded. "I know--I remember."

"I chose to believe the best about you, Drew--that if you could, you would have helped," said Jim. "My daughter trusted you as an ally--and I trust you. But I'm Kimmie's father as well as your friend. And I could never shake the feeling that she never died. And so I appeal to you--as a healer--a friend--a father's appeal--If you know anything--if in the capacity as the man who could have conquered the planet--from whom no military or national secret was safe--if you know anything about the fate of my Kimmie-Cub--" Jim's lip trembled and his eyes teared. He could not speak further.

Dr. Drew Lipsky's face became profoundly sad. He took off his glasses. He took out a kerchief and wiped his eyes. "I knew this day would come--and that hasn't made it any easier." He took a deep breath, as though making a deep resolve. "This could well be both the happiest and the saddest day of your life. Come with me."

The former criminal mastermind and death-ray builder drove himself and his friend to his Clinic. The father of his former arch-enemy sat subdued next to him, feeling ready to jump out of his skin.

Sheila Go greeted them. "Hello, Jim. Hello, dear."

Jim and Sheila embraced warmly and kissed each other on the cheek. As both colleague and the only other person in the world who was as expert in cybertronic technology as himself, Jim felt nothing but the deepest friendship for his daughter's former combatant.

Drew looked at her soberly. "Sheila--I'm taking Jim to our private area. Please see that we're not disturbed."

Sheila nodded--and saw the fatalistic expression in her lover's face. She sighed to herself--and steeled herself. Drew had warned her--this day would surely come. Ron Stoppable's marriage had made it seem symbolic.

Drew led his friend down corridors and stairwells. They were entering a place Jim had never been in the building, deep into its core. Drew put a hand in Jim's shoulder. "I'm going to ask you to do the hardest thing you have ever done. I want you to contain yourself for the next few minutes. Any loud noise or disturbance could be detrimental to the patient."

"The--patient?" asked Jim, with hollow eyes.

"Yes, Jim," said Drew sadly. "The patient."

"Someone who knew Kim," said Jim hesitantly.

Drew ignored the question. "I discovered the victim of a crime--who was buried alive. I rescued that victim and made that victim my patient. There was acute emotional trauma. There was also some cranial injury due to physical trauma. The patient was deprived of air for a short time. In addition, the patient contracted an infection before the exhumation as a result of the black mold extant in the place of internment. The infection developed into encephalitis. The patient was deathly ill for weeks--and months in recovery. And after the patient was recovered, I found that the immune system was compromised. Permanently. The cumulative damage to mind and body has proven irreversible."

"I understand," said Jim. "This poor man--or woman--was in a permanently vegetative state."

"No, Jim--not vegetative. That was the painful irony. The patient's mind was still quite vital--but the patient was delusional. I tried to do what I could. I created an artificial world for the patient--a holographic world--based on her actual life previous to her injury."

Jim trembled. "You--" He swallowed convulsively. "You said--her."

"Yes I did. I was personally acquainted with the patient--and family. I was familiar with the patient's life. Extensively. My relations with the patient were not amicable--until a short time before the injury she sustained."

"You knew the patient in your former criminal career," asked Jim.

"As well as I knew you. As much as I could, I sought to restore the patient to a state of normalcy. Her family, her friends, her lifestyle--everything was simulated to as close a degree of realism as I was capable of. And yet I closely managed the circumstances of her life to minimize further emotional trauma. School. Occupation. Hobbies. Friendships. In this environment she appears to thrive--mentally, physically, and emotionally. My research with androids, synthodrones, artificial intelligence, and artificial personality has enabled me to supply her with a realistic emotional interaction with the holographic 'people' who inhabit her world." Drew bowed his head and stifled a sob. "All my research and treatment--everything I have been able to do for the mentally ill--has been a direct result of my interaction with this one patient. She has been my inspiration--the fountainhead of my research. I've helped dozens--hundreds. And yet I can do nothing further for this patient. Her case is my greatest failure."

Jim stared intently at Drew for a moment.

"Let me anticipate your question, said Drew. "Did I have evidence the identity of who perpetrated the crime against her? Yes. Did I ever consider informing her family and friends? Again, yes. What stayed my hand? At the time, I was only recently paroled from my prison sentence and pardoned for all my own crimes. My own history with the patient would have made me and Dr. Go prime suspects in the criminal assault against her. And the person I consider the true suspect was my patient's good friend and high school classmate. They shared many activities, both scholastic and extracurricular. The alleged perpetrator's conduct and record were beyond suspicion--beyond reproach. I will be candid. I feared for my freedom, in the beginning. But as time passed, this patient grew as dear to me as a daughter--the daughter I never had. The bodily condition that turned my skin blue has left me infertile. I will never sire a child. This young lady fills my mind and heart--day and night--for these many years."

Jim and Drew came through a certain door.

"We are now many feet underground." Drew pointed to a steel wall before them. "This is a holographic chamber. It is a microbiologically sterile environment. It is outfitted with the most advanced technology I have been able to acquire--or invent. I am continually upgrading. This is her life raft--her prison. It is impervious to all harm. It is airtight and soundproof--until I lift the panel. Then some slight sound will penetrate. I beg, you, Jim. I implore you. Remember your promise to retain your composure. After than, I will submit myself to whatever treatment you see fit to inflict. But you're an intelligent man. You already suspect what you're about to see."

As the panel slid open, Drew whispered a final statement. "I will not ask for your forgiveness--because I do not deserve it."

A sight met Jim's eyes. He clenched his fists. Love--joy--agony--horror--relief--hope--all these emotions ran over his face.

It was Kim. Dressed in her crop top and capris. In the treehouse with Ron. They were kissing and hugging--"making out". She looked thin. It was nighttime.

"Ron," she said between kisses, "I so have got to get home. It's almost curfew."

"K.P.," said the Ron-hologram, "Just a few more minutes. Tomorrow's Saturday."

"Oh, Ron," she groaned, "I wish. But Daddy's still tweaked."

The panel closed. Jim Possible's knuckles turned white from gripping the handrail. His head was bowed and his shoulders shook with suppressed sobs. Tears cascaded down his face. His features were contorted with mad grief.

"Now, Jim," said Drew quietly, "Now you may express yourself."

Jim screamed. He punched Drew Lipsky in the face.

Drew fell backward and lay sprawled on the floor. Blood flowed from his nose and lip. Calmly he got up. "You may continue, Jim. I won't resist."

But Jim collapsed to his hands and knees and wailed like madman. Drew kneeled and lifted him up by the shoulders, and both men clung to each other and sobbed.

The staff heard the commotion and came running. Sheila Go was among them. "It's alright," she told the rest, "The situation is under control." As the other staffers left, looking dazedly back over their shoulders, Sheila took out her cell phone and punched a number. "Hello, Middleton Police Department. This is Dr. Go at the Matilda Lipsky Clinic. I'd like to speak with Detective Thomas Hobble. I have information on Kim Possible. I'll wait."

And in a moment, Thomas Hobble answered. "Dr. Go, this is Lieutenant. Hobble. I got your message, and I'm very interested to hear what you have to tell me."

"Lieutenant. Hobble," asked Sheila, "Were you the officer in charge of investigating Kim Possible's disappearance?"

The officer's voice was bland and unemotional. "Yes, Doctor, I was in charge before the arrival of the federal team. The case is officially closed, but were it to reopen, I would be in charge again."

"She's here. She's alive and in no immediate danger, but she's not well. Her health is very precarious. Any excitement or disturbance could be detrimental. If you'd like to come, we'll be glad to cooperate."

She could hear the suppressed emotion in his voice. "Yes, Ma'am, I understand. I'll be right over."

When Luit. Hobble arrived with a uniformed policeman; he was taken to a small consultation room. Jim Possible sat in a chair, holding a glass of water and staring at the floor. Drew LIpsky and Sheila Go were calmly standing with a man in a business suit.

"Lieutenant Hobble, I'd like to make a statement right off the bat," said Dr Lipsky.

"You understand, sir, that anything you might say could be used to implicate you later," said the officer.

"I understand. I have my attorney present. I also have information that could implicate Mrs. Tara Stoppable." Drew handed Hobble a folder.

Thomas Hobble reviewed the contents of the folder. "Damn! Pardon my language, folks. Doc, my compliments! You've got all your ducks in a row here! You would've made one helluva crime scene investigator!" He looked up in regret. "I'm also sorry that I have to take you and Dr. Go into custody."

"I know. We won't resist".

Jim looked up. "Drew--I've got to call my wife."

Drew nodded. "I know. There's one last matter, Jim--the maintenance of this facility. Since this is an entirely private foundation, I can appoint whomever I wish to direct it. I've made arrangements for you and Anne to assume the directorship--if you would consent. My attorney will familiarize you. Patient census is down at the moment. My nursing staff can assist Anne in their care. Kim's chamber is set for self-maintenance--a sort of auto-pilot function. I've incorporated much of your research involving cybertronics. You should find it a simple matter to operate. I have implicit faith in your ability.

As the uniformed policeman handcuffed Sheila and Drew, Drew spoke. "Jim?"

"Yes, Drew?"

"One last thing. This was my idea from its inception. Sheila was only my assistant. She's expended superhuman effort treating Kim during her sickness."

Jim Possible paced in his home for hours. How should he tell his wife? It would be the shock of lifetime. Their daughter--alive. And yet no longer their daughter. She was mentally challenged. She was unable to touch or talk to another human. What would this do to his wife? To their marriage?

The door opened and closed. Mrs. Dr. Possible took off her lab coat. "Jim? You're home early. Everything going well at work?"

Jim embraced his wife--a slow heartfelt embrace. He silently sighed.

Anne's smile faded. "Jim? What is it? You haven't been this way since Kimmie disappeared. You're scaring me."

He gripped her hands hard. "Dear. Sit down. I have news. The most wonderful--and most terrible--news you'll ever hear."

It was said that Anne's scream could be heard several houses away.

Drew Lipsky and Sheila Go appeared with their attorney, Mr. and Mrs. Dr. Possible, Officer Hobble, and the district attorney before the judge.

"Would all parties approach the bench?" asked the judge. "This is the most unusual case ever to come across my docket."

The district attorney spoke. "Your Honor, the State and the people are not amiss to releasing Dr. Lipsky and Dr. Go on their own cognizance. It is quite evident they represent no flight risk."

Officer Hobble spoke. "Your Honor, as the officer in charge of the case involving Ms. Possible, I urge absolute secrecy until we have apprehended the suspect."

"I accept both recommendations," said the judge. "So ordered."

Anne Possible confronted Drew Lipsky. "I've had my moment, Drew. I've had time to listen to what my husband had to tell me, gotten hysterical, and hateful. I'm past that. Now--I want to hear about my daughter."

Drew took a breath. It was a story he had only told Luit. Hobble. Not even Jim had asked for the details. "My cousin--Motor Ed Lipsky--another of Kimberly's foes--found the backpack. He notified Shego and I. The trail of evidence led us to the King house and the cistern. Kimberly was insane with terror. Our appearance only made it worst."

Anne's face was of stone.

Drew bowed his head. "I was afraid. Afraid of prison. Afraid of what conventional medicine--even the best--even your care, Anne--what it would do to her. Afraid of losing the woman I loved--of losing the second chance I had at being the kind of man I should be. And so I proceeded with my own treatment. I conducted a low-level scan using my brain-tap. I went as deep as I dared. Kim's mind was that of a child. I concocted a persona she could relate to. Someone I already knew. Someone she already had had a relationship with. Among my android personality software there existed a certain program. I resurrected Erik Drake--as a genuine loving boyfriend, this time. No deceptions."

Anne's eyes flared with the anger of a goddess full of divine retribution. "You distrusted _my care? _You didn't think to build a model of her parents? Her mother?"

Drew shook his head. "I had programs to mimic your personality--Jim's personality--even Ron Stoppable's. But they were imperfect. Kim's mental condition was so fragile that I couldn't risk the slightest glitch. The irony of it was that is the midst of her emotional trauma, she could still recognize people. What if she were to detect a subterfuge? She's always been skeptical. But a breach of trust in her condition--it would drive her over the edge. For several weeks, it worked. For all intents and purposes, Kim was in her senior year at high school. She went to school, cheer practice--even missions. I gradually introduced her family and friends back into her life. You both. Her brothers. Ron Stoppable. My old self, Dr. Drakken. I built death rays and she foiled my plans. It was just like old days. She was on the verge of complete recovery. Then she became ill. A mold from the cistern. She contracted encephalitis. For weeks she was delirious. At death's door. Sheila and I labored day and night. I wish I say I was completely altruistic. But I wasn't. Yes. I was a coward. What if she died under my treatment? Whatever fears I had before were intensified. But Sheila gave her all the tenderness and devotion she would have given a daughter. Dare I say it, Anne? She gave Kimberly as intense a love as you would have."

Anne's words were short and clipped. "Drew--if at anytime in this whole mad procession of events my intervention might have done some good, that was the time. You and Sheila have my eternal gratitude for setting Kim free. But your decision to withhold treatment based on your fear of legal consequences--I don't have to tell you. I've already forgiven you--but this issue is yours to work out between you and God."

Drew nodded. "I know. It might well have been her last shot at recovery. By the time she came out of coma, she had deteriorated even further. She's regressed ever since. It's been like going backward in time. One day, she might wake up think she's still in Pixie Scout and she has to sell cookies door to door. Another day, she might be climbing in the Himalayas--or swimming the English Channel with her Nana. Some days she just wants her father to read a story to his Kimmie-Cub.

"And what else?" asked Anne.

"The illness took her bacterial resistance. Every last vestige. As surely as if she had A.I.D.S. No one has touched her since then. No human contact. Nothing but androids and holograms. I've upgraded my software--written more complex interactive behavioral algorithms."

Anne was aghast. "Drew--what kind of way is that to live?"

"It's not. That's why I devised a real-time interface."

Anne blinked, uncomprehending. "Real-time interface--"

"It's the developmental stage. Patients and their families can actually relate with each other in the holographic sense. You and Jim--come with me--back to the clinic."

And so Jim and Anne met with Drew and Sheila before what had become Kim's prison and lifeboat. "Here. In anticipation of the day when you two would know, I've prepared this."

Jim examined the object. "It looks like a conventional headset--earphones and microphone."

It's that--plus a set of EEG electrodes," said Drew. "I am capable of interacting directly with Kim through a hologram character. Not only can I hear what the character hears and speak with the character's voice. I can see what the character sees and feel what the character touches. Direct cranial contact--direct sensory input--via the wireless electrode." He held up two headsets. "Jim--Anne. Your daughter's been waiting."

Anne cupped her hand over mouth. Jim's hand trembled as he extended it and reached for the headset

Kim was at the door of her family's house, kissing Ron goodnight. "Oh, Ron," she moaned, "I so **gotta** go in. Daddy's sure to have a two-seater to the next black hole."

The Ron-hologram sighed convincingly. He looked back, smiled, and waved as he left. "G'night, K.P. See ya tomorrow."

Kim hesitantly opened the front door and quietly closed it. The Mr.Dr.P. and Mrs.Dr.P. holograms were seated in the living room reading the evening newspaper.

"Your turn, Jim," said Drew in the real world.

Jim put on the headset. He swallowed. His daughter. Back from the dead. And yet living only a half-life. He tried to make his voice as normal as he could. "Kimmie-Cub?"

The holographic Mr.Dr.P looked up and asked. "Kimmie-Cub?"

Kim was apologetic. "Daddy--I'm so sorry. I got home past curfew."

The holographic Mr.Dr.P embraced the real-life Kim. And on the other side of the panel, the real-life Jim Possible embraced an unseen Kim.

Kim was puzzled over her father's lack of sternness. "Daddy? Is everything okay? This isn't how you usually act when I get home."

Jim struggled to keep his composure. "It--just seems like a long time--since I've seen my little girl. You've grown up so fast."

"Daddy! Please!" protested Kim. "This is so undignified! Tomorrow night's my first night as a Maddog Cheerleader! Mom! You'll talk to Daddy, won't you? Tell him not to smother me! Uh--you guys _are _coming to watch, aren't you?"

Anne's eyes brimmed with tears. "Yes, dear--we'll come."

"Well--gotta go to bed. 'Night, you guys. Love ya!" And Kim went up the stairs to her loft.

Jim and Anne wept for many moments. Drew stood a respectful distance from them.

"Drew, said Jim, "If Kimmie is at the age in her mind when she first became a Cheerleader, why is she--romantically involved--with Ron? That didn't happen for several years."

Drew answered. "That's the most remarkable part of her mental state, Jim. All I can guess is that she had a deep love for Ron Stoppable all her life. When she first regained consciousness five years ago, she was immediately delusional. I tried to relate with her through the holographic persona I knew best--her old boyfriend, Erik Drake. But as the days progressed, and she resumed what seemed her normal life as a student and heroine--as I tried desperately to guide her back to normalcy--she couldn't wait to break up with Erik Drake. She confessed her love to the Ron Stoppable Hologram. As the days progressed, she actually seemed to improve. In a desperate bid to wean her to recovery, I dared to manipulate the situation. Kim discussed future plans with her 'Ron'. College. Careers. Marriage. Her conversion to Judaism--or an interfaith marriage. Children--how many--which religious faith to raise them in. Growing old together." Drew shook his head with resignation. "I had great hopes for her recovery in spite on everything. On the fateful night, Kim actually proposed marriage to her 'Ron'. Of course I programmed him to accept her proposal. She wanted to consummate their physical relationship that very night. Losing her virginity to a hologram? I was frantic. I programmed 'Ron' to appeal to his religious faith for the reason that they should wait. Then--the very next day--the damnable sickness appeared. Now she shifts to periods in her life like a person changing TV channels. High school. Missions. Grade school. Kindergarten. But the one constant has been her love for Ron. From puppy love crush to adult betrothal. It's as though Walter Nelson, Josh Mankey, or Erik Drake never existed. As far as Kim is concerned, her entire live has been with Ron."

As they left the Matilda Lipsky Clinic, Jim and Anne clung to each other. Anne broke the silence. "We've got to tell Ron. And we've got to figure out how. He and Tara will be back from their honeymoon next week."

Jim nodded. "This will kill him--his K.P. alive--in a sort of imaginary existence. His new wife a murder suspect. We're only Kimmie's parents. He was Kim's Other Self."

"**Is** her Other Self," corrected Anne quietly. "I've got to be the one to tell him. He'll certainly want to kill Drew--and maybe Tara. And I've got to talk to Luit. Hobble. This has got to happen before they arrest Tara."

_**to be continued**_


	3. Chapter 3

To KP's Lawyer

Will Kim ever leave her mental prison? Perhaps she can leave her physical one, hmm? Ah a spoiler. How will it all affect Ron? Let's see.

Daccu65

Glad I caught your notice. Haven't updated very soon. "Glacially Slow Writer", don't you know?

CajunBear73

How will Jim and Anne apprise Ron of Kim's sitch and not let Tara know? It's your lucky day. You're about to find out.

Comet Moon:

CAN love conquer all? Yes—but first love's got to take some hits.

Slyrr

Thank you . Here comes more.

LTAOZFAN

I thank you for that scientific note about oxygen deprivation. Good to know. How effectual is Ron's MMP? Alas, that is not yet divulged. First he has to work through some issues.

Dancing Grass and Donteatacowman

Thank you for the praise

A note. What Wade Load says in the story: "I understand rejection. I was a fat little kid of color who had a doctorate in computer science at age ten. The established members of the academic community often take a dim view of child prodigies. They consider them intruders--a momentary phenomenon.

I have indulged in some K.P. style humor with the name of Kim's gynecologist, Dr Olivia Varian--like _"ovarian"._Sorry. Awful pun.

_**A BOX OF CUDDLEBUDDIES**_

_**CHPT 4. POETIC JUSTICE**_

THE ORDEAL

Drew had called the Possible's and Lieut. Hobble to his clinic for an urgent conference. Sheila Go joined them.

"I'll make this short and sweet, " he said. "We've devised a way for someone to have direct physical contact with Kim. It's a recent development. I felt that you should know, Jim and Anne, because you're Kim's parents, and you, Lieut. Hobble, because you're the detective in charge of her case."

Mr. and Mrs. Dr. P., and Lieut. Hobble stared in disbelief.

"Direct physical contact--." said Mr. Dr. P.

"--Even without her natural bacterial immunity?" asked Mrs. Dr. P.

Drew nodded. "Yes. We've been toying with it for several months now."

"Anyone in general?" asked Mr. Dr. P.

"Not just anyone, Jim," said Sheila. "A particular person. Me."

"May we ask how?" asked Mrs. Dr. P.

Shelia Iooked pale and drawn. "I irradiate myself--with my own plasma power."

Mr. and Mrs. Dr. P. were aghast.

Lieut. Hobble looked confused. "You bathe yourself in the same green radiation that you used to shoot at Kim--and us? Is that possible?"

Sheila nodded. "It's very possible--and please excuse the pun, Anne and Jim. I've done it several times now."

Mrs. Dr. P. asked tentatively. "How does--it feel?"

"I'll be candid, Anne. It's excruciatingly painful. It's the equivalent of being burned alive."

Lieut. Hobble now looked just as appalled as the Possible's.

"Let me explain," said Dr. Lipsky. "We got the idea from normal medical sterilization. Every item, supply, instrument, dressing, and medication used on a patient is pathogen-free. No germs. No viri. And sealed in an impervious package or container. Hippocrates--the Father of Medicine--the man who formulated the Hippocratic oath--found that light and fresh air were the natural enemies of disease and infection. Anton von Leuwenhoek discovered microbes through his microscope. Joseph Lister discovered the benefits of chemically disinfecting surgical instruments. Louis Pasteur discovered the agent of infection was bacteria--and how to prevent it--through heat--pasteurization, as we call it--."

"Dr. Lipsky, this all very fascinating," said Lieut. Hobble, "But before you get too far in the history lesson, let's get back on track."

"Quite right. Pardon me. Got carried away. Now--as Dr. Anne will verify, there several ways of achieving asepsis--complete surgical and medical sterility. Objects can be autoclaved by steam heat, chemical gas, and radiation--."

Thomas Hobble broke in. "Doc--cut to the chase."

"My Drew," said Sheila quietly to Anne Possible. "Still loves to gloat. No matter if he's Dr. Lipsky or Dr. Drakken, give him an audience, and he'll lecture their ears off."

"My Jim," said Anne Possible, "The same."

"Our doctors. You gotta love 'em."

"Yes, Officer Hobble, sorry. It's public record, of course, how Sheila and her brothers acquired their abilities They were exposed to some unknown energy when a comet struck their tree house when they were children."

"Like Dr. Reed Richards and his fellow Fantastic Four teammates," interjected Jim. "Like poor Dr Bruce Banner, who's now trapped in a Jekyll-and-Hyde existence."

"Yes, Jim. To continue. After the Warmonga affair, Sheila and I went straight. And we assumed that her days of generating plasma power were done. But then we discovered something. We found early in the history of our clinic that Sheila could utilize her power to kill pathogens."

"I can typically focus my power in a tight beam or a fireball--like St. Elmo's Fire," said Sheila. "But by modulating my power, I can generate a low level energy field with a wide wave dispersal pattern. I can put my hand in a room and kill all the pathogens in that room--on the walls and in the air."

"Now I need some background, Dr. Go. How do you know every germ is dead?" asked Lieut. Hobble.

"We can culture the room--take swabs of the walls and air samples and microbiologically analyze them. So if no germ or virus is alive in the samples, we assume there are no live pathogens on the exposed surfaces of the room--acceptable medical standards."

Lieut. Hobble shrugged. "If Dr. Possible's okay with it, so am I. I assume this is the way they create a sterile environment for those kids with no immunity who live in a bubble."

"Exactly, Lieut. Hobble. You've got it."

"But how does Dr. Go--uh--'disinfect' herself.?"

"I generate the energy," said Sheila, "But I don't project it. I contain it--until the field envelops my entire body."

"Hence the excruciating pain you mention."

Sheila nodded. "Yes," she said on in a subdued voice. "Drew has taken cultures of my skin, saliva, urine, and stool. We've found that a seven minute exposure is sufficient to make me as pathogen-free as Kimmie's environment. And I suffer no permanent ill-effects. I can take some commercial products to restore the beneficial bacteria--like what's typically found in the intestinal tract that aids in digestion."

"So for seven minutes you're willing to expose yourself to this energy--a subdued level of the same energy that can melt metal--" said Anne. She took a step and hugged Sheila. "What can I say?" she said quietly. "God bless you."

"Sheila," asked Jim, "Is there any way another person could undergo the same process?"

"I can answer that, Jim," said Drew. "Back when Sheila and I were Shego and Drakken, I did extensive analysis on her when she joined me as my partner in crime."

"My Dr. D., "said Sheila, smiling somewhat sadly, "Always trying to build a better death ray--or upgrade his sidekick's powers."

"What I found," continued Drew, "Was that there's a certain neurological shock associated with self-generated radiation. Dr. Reed Richards--who you mentioned, Jim--and I have shared research. His brother-in-law, John Storm, the Human Torch, Cyclops of the X-Men, other supers--even his wife, Susan--she projects her invisible force field--all suffer from the same syndrome. The exercise of their abilities causes a certain amount of trauma to the nervous system. In some cases, a very acute amount of trauma."

"We tried in it on the lab rats," said Sheila. "They were dead inside a minute."

"I was going to experiment on higher primates--like chimps," said Drew, "But my Sheila is an ardent proponent of humane treatment for animals."

"I threatened to barbeque his butt if any other animals were harmed," said Sheila wryly, and they all laughed.

"In short, Jim, to answer your question, Sheila is accustomed to the shock--as are John Storm, Susan Richards, and so forth. Anyone else would suffer--possibly fatally."

"We're prepared to do a demonstration today," said Sheila.

"Dr. Go, that's not necessary--" said Lieut. Hobble hastily.

"We feel that it is," said Drew. "Jim and Anne, seeing as you two are Kimmie's parents and in all likelihood will be formally declared her legal guardians after Tara Stoppable is arrested and this whole thing goes public."

Sheila dressed in a simple white cotton dress, like a hospital gown, but without the open back, and entered an air lock between the inner holo-chamber and the exterior of the chamber. "Ordinarily I do this unclothed, but you guys are here, and I don't want to offend anybody."

The Possibles' and Lieut. Hobble watched through the large window. She sat in the chair and the process was begun. The glow spread from her hands to the rest of her. Her entire body was enveloped in the glow.

Sheila screamed occasionally through gritted teeth Things like **"God in Heaven!"** or **"Mother-fuker!"**

And Drew knelt beside her in the heat-resistant suit, clasping her hand, ticking off the time every thirty seconds with a stopwatch.

"Thank you for being here," Sheila said.

"I love you," said Drew. "You amaze me."

Appalled, the Possibles and Lieut. Hobble watched silently during the entire process.

Jim and Anne clasped each other's hands.

"Thank God," whispered Anne. "Our Kimmie can have some real human contact."

"But not us," whispered Jim. "For the rest of our lives--and her life--it'll never be us."

THE REVELATION

_Tara trudged her way through the dank fetid swamp. Mud squelched as she took a step. She had lost her shoes sometime ago. The mud reached to her knees. Her hand shook as she tried to hold the lantern steady. She lifted it up and squinted, trying to peer through the thick fog. The overgrown brambles and thorn bushes snagged her clothing, shredding the fabric._

_She knew this place--the sense of familiarity. _

_Trees here--shrubs there--an old swingset with slide, now rusted._

_Of course! Her old back yard! Things had over-grown._

_The developers had acquired her parents' old property. They were going to raze the house, clear the vegetation, and build a subdivision._

_They would excavate the cistern--and find the skeleton--Kimmie's skeleton._

_Dental records would identify the body--or DNA--or whatever._

_Morbid curiosity had finally gotten the best of her. She drove out--at night, after the workmen were gone._

_The cistern was open. Tara shivered--and stared--in horror._

_A round thing __floated__ up from the cistern, like a child's helium balloon--a horrid balloon. Lank red hair hung from it. It rotated. A __**face**__. A rotting face--rotting cheeks--ghastly glowing eyes. The rotting lips smiled. "Hello, Tara--I've been waiting--"_

_Things grappled Tara's arms. Disembodied skeletal hands. They dragged Tara toward the cistern. "No, Kimmie! For the love of God! __**NO**__!"_

Tara gasped and sat bold upright in bed. Sweat drenched her hair, her face, her arms, her nightgown. And for a moment she felt grappling hands again. "Ron!" she screamed.

But the hands did not belong to a nightmare ghoul. Comforting arms enfolded her. "Oh, babe. Another nightmare," said Ron quietly. "Shhh. I'm here." He held his quivering wife close.

Tata shuddered. "Wh-why," she asked in a strangled voice. "Why do I keep dreaming of Kimmie--that they found her body in a swamp--that she's after me?"

Ron shook his head. "I don't know, hon." The last night of their honeymoon. What freaky timing. Ron had made his peace with Kim's unsolved disappearance.

Tara had helped heal his grief. He had turned to the wisdom of his faith. As it said in the Book: Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not onto thine own understanding In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.

Sensei had also counseled him. _"The seedling sprouts, Stoppable-san. The bloom unfolds. Then the petals drop. The leaf withers. But the seed is made. Then it germinates. Life and death. And life again. It is the way of all things."_

It was time to move on. He had married Tara. She was not Kim. No one ever would be. But she loved him and was willing to give him her life.

And now--life's river had brought them back to this location. Kim's fate. Ron steeled himself. Whatever the future unfolded, he would trust in the One Who guided all things to their ultimate end.

But out of a sense of futility, he prayed desperately in his heart, _please, Lord, give us a sign. Show us something. What the hell is going on here? Is this some kinda message?_

Tara pled desperately in her heart. _Please, Kim--I'm sorry--_. And the thought froze.

The childhood belief in God--and Afterlife. The childhood fear of ghosts. Tara had suppressed them--or outgrown them. They now returned. Like chickens coming home to roost. Like an overdue bill. She had told herself that whatever she had to do to have Ron was worth it. But Fate was knocking. Payment was now demanded. The common belief that the departed spirit of murder victim was restless until justice was done. It gave Tara goose bumps of horror. God--or Kim--or Whatever--would be in no mood to accept a lame apology.

Back in Middleton, Regina King invited Anne and Jim Possible to her home for dinner. "Ron and Tara will be home tomorrow from their honeymoon. I've been kind of lonely. I just felt like having some friends over." She set up a patio table and chairs outside. "This is where Tara set up the empty chair--in honor of Kim--at the reception."

Anne remembered with razor-sharp clarity.

"_Tara, honey, thank you," Anne said._

_Tara looked like her mind was occupied. She snapped back to the present as she looked up the see Anne standing there. She stood and gave Anne a hug. _

_Anne's body shook as she silently sobbed. Tara held her close until she stopped. _

_Anne pulled back and dried her face with a napkin. "Tara, thank you for honoring Kimmie like you did. This is your day you didn't have to do that. It's….it's been five years since Kimmie went swimming that day and….."_

_Tara patted Anne Possible's hand. "Kim was very special to Ron and I know that if she had lived we would be celebrating her marriage to Ron and not to me. She loved him and he loved her. They would have been an amazing couple, and they would have rocked the world. Somehow, I really feel that she is here."_

_And Anne leaned forward and gave Tara a kiss. "You know, Tara, I feel the same way. Somehow I feel really close to Kimmie now. I know where ever she is, she is happy for you and Ron."_

_It was all so plain now--Tara's glance over at Kim's chair sitting there in its place of honor. The lid to the cistern was directly under the spot where the chair sat. Anne thought Kim was at rest at the bottom of Lovelorn Lake. Tara--with the loving smile and ghoulish heart--thought Kim was still chained to the bottom of cistern._

_But Kim had already been in Drew and Sheila's protection for the five years--safe--and yet still imprisoned--victimized permanently by Tara--the new Mrs. Stoppable._

Anne felt queasy. She was sickened by the thought of Tara letting her sit over the very spot of Kim's ghastly dark internment. "I'm sorry, Regina--it brings back all the fear and anxiety. Could we--sit elsewhere?"

Regina's face fell. "Of course, Anne. I can move the table."

"Here, Regina," said Jim. "Let me help you." He understood the horrid irony of being here. But they must keep up appearances--until Tara was arrested. He helped Regina move the table.

"Oh, Anne," sympathized Regina, "It must be so hard--what can I say? Tara's father left his wife and daughter--and yet to lose Kim--it makes my pain seem so little--I'm sorry--I wasn't thinking."

"No, Regina," assured Anne. "Don't feel badly. It was very considerate to have Jim and I over for dinner." She sought her husband's hand and grasped it tightly. Regina would soon lose **her** daughter--also to imprisonment--and to a murderess's reputation.

The next day Ron and Tara came home from their honeymoon and set up housekeeping.

Anne agonized all day and night.

"Let me tell Ron," Jim insisted.

"Thank you, dear--but I sense Ron will need a mother's solace," said Anne.

In the morning, she called the Stoppable house.

Tara answered. "Mrs. Dr. P.! You're our first caller at our new house!" She had grown comfortable with calling Anne and Jim by the same nicknames as Ron used.

Anne gritted her teeth. "Welcome home, Mrs. Stoppable." She tried to sound pleasant. "Is the new man of the house there?"

"No," Tara said brightly. "He's gone into work. He should be home by evening."

"Thank you, Tara," said Anne.

"I'd like to have you and your husband over as our first guests some night for supper," said Tara.

"That would be wonderful, Tara. I'll call you back when both Jim and I have a night free. Surgeons and rocket scientists, you know," said Anna.

"Yeah," said Tara dryly. "Kinda like head chefs."

Anne hung up. "Ron's at the restaurant," she said quietly to Jim and Lieut. Hobble.

"Are you equal to this task, dear?" asked Jim Possible. "Lieut. Hobble has confronted a lot of families of crime victims."

"Dr. Possible--are you sure of the wisdom of this course?" asked Lieut. Hobble. "I trust Mr. Stoppable's innocence--but I've known him since he and Kim were in high school. His love for your daughter was legendary. How do we know he won't take the law into his own hands? Then I would have to arrest **him** for murder."

"I've known him his entire life, Lieutenant," said Anne. "I've confronted terminally ill patients and their families with hopeless medical prognoses. This will surpass that, of course--but you've got to trust me."

Anne Possible drove to the restaurant where Ron was head chef. It was a terrible weapon she bore. Tara King had tried to take Kim's life. Drew Lipsky had intervened--but without intending to, by his neglect, had formed the weapon that shattered Jim's life. And Jim, fulfilling his solemn responsibility, had shattered hers. Now she must shatter Ron's.

Just a few words--a story.

Ron was alone at the restaurant. Good. "Anne!" he said brightly. "What brings you by? Let me fix you something!"

The look in Anne's face froze Ron's heart.

"You have something to tell me--about Kim."

Anne's anguish deepened. _Why should I be surprised?_ she thought. His ability to sense a sitch about Kim--it was uncanny. _ I should have encouraged him--when he still felt Kim was alive._

Ron's face was set like iron. "Tell me--"

His response was as she thought. He slammed his fist into a table and split it like kindling. He wailed--and screamed--and cursed. **"She's been at Drew's clinic for all this time? I'll shoot the bastard myself! And then Tara! The damned little whore! Anne! How could you? You and Jim? Just go and forgive those two? For hiding Kim? That's as bad as Tara trying to kill her!" **And then he collapsed into Anne's embrace and howled in berserk sorrow. **"K.P! Oh, God! K.P!"**

And for what seemed many hours, Anne soothed and comforted Ron while he wept and huddled in her arms.

It was a long time before Anne and Ron could converse rationally. "Ron--what's done is done. Please--for my sake--for Kimmie's sake--don't do anything--to Drew--or Tara--or yourself--let justice have its way. Lieut. Hobble has a plan."

At the mention of Tara's name, Ron became murderously silent. "Oh yeah--ain't it just a helluva sitch? The new Mrs. Stoppable. I could cave her head in tonight--a hammer--a cinder block--the pretty blond head--while she's sleeping--then she'll go straight to Hell--let the little bitch roast!"

Anne was alarmed. "Ron! You're like a son to me! Do you want to become what **she's** become? I can't lose you, too!"

"I'll wait, Mrs. Dr.--'cause you ask me to. I'll play along. I'll act like the loving husband--like Tara must've acted like the loving friend. And then when they come to take her away--." Ron grinned fiendishly. "Yeah--I'm gonna enjoy this."

Lieut. Hobble called for a clandestine meeting with Drew, Sheila, and the Possibles. "The District Attorney and I have conferred. The evidence you presented is impressive, Dr. Lipsky. But the District Attorney's office feels that your status as self-confessed felon--well, let me put it briefly. Both your career criminal past and your current legal status compromises that evidence. A competent defense attorney could be able to have it declared inadmissible. Now if what you tell me is correct, we could take a deposition from Miss Possible in her--um--holographic state. But again, her competency could be called into question--especially if she couldn't be cross-examined."

Jim and Anne turned pale. Drew shook his head. "In her current mental state--that could prove catastrophic to Kim."

"Exactly. Now--if there were a way for Kim to visually identify Mrs. Stoppable as her assailant--it needn't be with her on the stand--it wouldn't have to take place in a courtroom at all. We could record the event. Like taking a deposition. It would have the same legal weight as an underage child describing the details of an assault perpetrated on them by an adult--and her testimony would not be called into question--because we will have established Kim's mental state--with medical corroboration. Any conceivable way to make that happen, Dr. Lipsky?"

Drew thought a moment--and smiled. "I have a plan, Lieut. Hobble. My Drakken persona isn't quite dead. I'm still capable of some crafty scheming."

It was a day later in the holographic world that Kim came to talk to her mother in the kitchen. She was subdued. "Mom?"

"Yes, Kimmie?" asked the holographic .P.

"Mom--I think something's wrong. Maybe you should take me to see Dr. Sheila. I'm bleeding--" Kim put her hand on her lower abdomen. "--Down here."

Holo-Anne clasped Kim's hands. "Kimmie! Don't you realize what's happening?"

Kim looked perplexed. "Well--is this what having your first period is?"

"Yes! That's exactly what it is? Remember what we talked about?"

"Yeah--kinda. Bonnie Rockwaller said she had hers two years ago. She said mine took so long 'cause I'm so--virginal."

On the other side of the chamber wall, Lieut. Hobble, the real Mr. and .P, Drew Lipsky, and Sheila Go watched.

"And how's this going to help us with our plan, Dr. Lipsky?" asked Lieut. Hobble.

Drew held up his hand. "Wait and see."

On the other side, the holographic Anne Possible reassured her daughter. "Kim! Don't listen to that girl! These things happen when they happen. Let's do this. We'll go see Dr. Go. We'll make the appointment for tomorrow. Will that make you feel better?"

Kim brightened. "Dr. Sheila? It sure would!"

Lieut. Hobble and the real Jim and Anne Possible stared at the real Sheila Go. Sheila blushed.

"My counterpart is taking my daughter to see 'Dr. Sheila'?" asked amazed Anne.

"Let me explain," said Drew. "When we first freed Kim five years ago, the one person she became closest to was the one she saw first: Sheila Go, alias Shego."

Sheila closed her eyes, reliving the memory.

_Shego dropped into the cistern and activated her power. The ghostly green glow illuminated the cistern. Kim was cringing in a corner, chained to the wall._

_"Please, Tara, __**no**__! For the love of __**God**__! __**No!**__"_

_Shego gasped. "Oh, Princess--what happened to you?"_

_Drakken unrolled a rope ladder and climbed down._

_Kim shrank in terror. __**"OMYGOD! OMYGOD! YOU TWO!"**_

_Shego slowly approached Kim. "Shh. Kim--it's okay. We're here to get you out." She hugged the frightened girl._

_Kim trembled in Shego's embrace. "You're not here to hurt me?"_

_"Kimmie! Of course not!"_

_You won't leave me here--in the dark?"_

_"No, sweetie. We're going to take you home. There's food--and a warm bed."_

_"Promise me you won't turn the lights out?"_

_"I promise."_

_"You'll stay with me?"_

_"Like glue, hon."_

_Shego watched Drakken pull out a device shaped like an ink pen. She recognized it--an air jet gun for hypodermic injection. Shego nodded. He pressed it against Kim's shoulder and pushed. There was a sound like a hiss of air and Kim went limp in Shego's arms._

_"I sedated her. She's showing signs of severe psychological trauma."_

_Shego carried Kim to the hovercraft and cradled her in her arms. _

_Drakken restored the cistern to its previous state--ironically, as Tara had done only hours before._

_They were silent as the hovercraft sped back to the lair. Shego wrapped Kim protectively in her embrace..._

Sheila bit her lip and a tear trickled down her cheek. She covered her eyes.

"Sheila?" Anne touched Sheila's arm.

Sheila's eyes glistened with tears. "It's seared into my memory, Anne--that first sight of Kim in the cistern. It was awful."

"You were going to tell us, Dr. Lipsky," reminded Lieut. Hobble, "About 'Dr. Sheila'."

"This happens every time Kimberly has her period," explained Drew. "Early in my therapy, "I constructed a holographic persona Kim could relate to--to care for her medical needs--based on someone she was close to."

Anne tried to hide her hurt feelings. "What made you settle on 'Dr. Shelia'?"

"We tried a variety of personas," explained Drew. "At first it was the holographic persona of her regular gynecologist, Dr Olivia Varian. But Kim was nervous and troubled--like a child's first time going to the doctor. We tried a persona based on you, Anne. But Kim detected a subterfuge. And again she displayed acute anxiety. So I finally settled a persona based on the person she seemed to trust the most."

"That was "Dr. Sheila'," said Jim Possible.

"I believe we can use this to our advantage," said Drew. "But it will require the coordinated efforts of us all--and precision timing--."

The next day, as Kim was examined by "Dr. Sheila", the Kimmunicator beeped.

"Kim! Big news! Remember the whole Tara sitch?" asked the holographic Wade. "Well, we found her! She's engaged in bioterrorism."

Kim was visibly nervous. "That's the girl who locked me in a cistern."

The holographic "Dr. Shelia" prompted her. "Kimmie, aren't you the girl who can do anything? We've talked about this for a long time. If we catch her, you can finally overcome your fear."

Kim was silent for a moment. "Wade," she asked slowly, "Can you find Ron? I could so use his help on this mission."

"Wade" tapped his keyboard and peered at several other screens. "Hmm. He applied online a couple days ago for some kind of after-school cooking class. And it's going on right now. I'm paging the Ronunicator, but it's gone to voicemail."

"Dammit," said Kim in a petulant little voice. I am so tweaked at him right now!" She glanced at her "mother" and "Dr. Sheila". "Oops. Sorry, Mom--Dr. Sheila."

On the other side of the holographic chamber viewing panel, Drew smiled evilly. "Now our plan kicks in."

Lieut. Hobble shook his head. "This one crazy scheme, Dr. Lipsky. Were all your plans this--um--'inventive'--when you were Dr. Drakken?"

Sheila rolled her eyes. "You have no idea, Lieutenant."

"Kimmie," said "Dr. Sheila" in the holographic chamber, "Don't you remember that mission you told me about? You and your family went together on Christmas Eve to look for Ron." She looked up at "Mrs. Dr. P." "What if we ask your parents now? I'm sure they would love to be your partners."

Kim pondered. "Wade?"

"Sounds good to me," said holo-Wade.

The "real" Jim Possible asked the "real" Drew. "Drew--what's going on? She isn't acting like my usual Kimmie-cub--the girl who can do anything."

"Sheila and I have witnessed this before," said "real" Drew. "Her experience with Tara King has left her with a deep-seated fear of confronting Tara."

"Mom?" asked Kim, "Would you and Daddy mind going with me on this mission? I would so appreciate it."

"I would **love** to, Kimmie," said holo-Mrs. Dr. P. "Wade--could you contact my husband? He'll be at the Middleton Space Center."

"Already done, Mrs. Dr. P.," said holo-Wade.

"I'm going with you," said holo-Dr. Sheila. "If Tara King is dealing with infectious agents, I want to be where I can keep my eye on my patient and her family."

"Wade," said Kim, "We're going to need some protection. Can you arrange to get some HAZMAT suits and a transport?"

"Already on it," said holo-Wade.

"You rock, Wade!" said Kim.

And holo-Wade gave Kim a thumbs-up.

And here's where precision timing is paramount," said "real" Drew. "Is Mrs. Stoppable at home?"

"We've checked," said "real" Lieut. Hobble. "Mr. Stoppable is about to leave for his 'conference'."

At Tara and Ron's home, Tara sat shivering.

"Honey? Was it another dream?" asked Ron

Tara nodded.

"If you want, I can postpone going to this conference for a day," said her husband.

Tara shook her head. "No, dear. I'll be fine. If I need to, I can call Mom or the Possible's. Go to your conference. Learn how to be a successful restaurateur--so you can support me in the manner to which I plan to become accustomed." She winked slyly.

Ron shrugged. "Okay--if you're sure."

"I'm sure," said Tara. "Now get going, I've already packed your suitcase."

"I'll be back in a couple days," said Ron

Tara kissed him as he left the house. With an expression of disgust, he spat and wiped his mouth as soon as he was out the door. He wanted to cave Tara's head in--but he had to wait. He promised Anne--he would let the law take its course.

Tara's little courtesies--like making him a naco omelet for breakfast that morning--and packing his suitcase--made no impression. He wanted to see Tara dragged away in shackles. He wanted to see Tara strapped to an electric chair--or receiving a lethal dose.

Tara waved from the window as she saw Ron's car leave. With a sigh, she turned and surveyed the kitchen. "Well--maybe I can defrost the freezer," she said to herself.

At the Matilda Lipsky Clinic, Sheila Go was enduring her self-generated plasma power ordeal. She would stand in for the holo-Dr. Sheila and be a live human chaperone for Kim as Drew's plan proceeded.

The "real" Mr. and Mrs. Dr. P. watched with pride from outside the holographic chamber as Kim prepared. "She's in mission mode," said the "real" Anne.

"She can still do anything," said the "real" Jim with a lump in his throat.

In the holo chamber, holo-Dr. Sheila "drove" Kim and holo-Anne to a "Global Justice HAZMAT facility".

"We should wear our HAZMAT suits before we leave for Tara's lair," said Kim.

"My thoughts exactly," said holo-Dr. Sheila.

Kim, holo-Anne, and holo-Dr. Sheila entered the building.

"We've been expecting you, Ms. Possible," said the holo-Global Justice agent. "Dr. Director has placed this entire facility at your disposal."

"Badical," said Kim. "Now show us where we can change into our suits."

The holo-agent led them to a secure decontam chamber--which was the airlock for the holographic chamber. The door slid open and Kim and holo-Sheila entered.

"Mom--are you coming?" asked Kim.

"I'll wait out here for your father," said holo-Anne.

Kim nodded. "Okay. See you in a few."

The door closed. The "real" Sheila waited in the "decontam chamber"-airlock--hidden from view by a holo-wall. As Kim turned her head for a second, the holo-Sheila evaporated and the "real" Sheila appeared.

"Nicely done," said "real" Lieut. Hobble to "real" Drew Lipsky outside the holographic chamber. "You didn't miss a beat."

"Of course," gloated "real" Drew. "I must confess--I've missed this--planning and carrying out a scheme."

"Need help with your suit, Dr. Sheila?" asked Kim. "I'm used to this. I've lost count how many times I've worn pressurized suits and battle suits and mission suits in my lifetime."

"Thanks, Kim. I think I've got it," said "real" Sheila.

They put on their helmets. The suits were sealed. The door on the other side of the airlock slid open--and for the first time in five years, Kim Possible stepped out into the real world, protected by her airtight suit.

She saw her parents, also dressed in HAZMAT suits. "How did you guys get out here?"

"We used another decontam chamber," said "real" Mr. Dr. P.

"Well, c'mon," said Kim. "Let's go catch a bioterrorist." She looked around. "Wow. The facility sure looks different on this side of the decontam chamber." She saw Lieut. Hobble in a suit. "Officer Hobble?"

"Yes, Miss Possible. Hope you don't mind if I tag along. Global Justice has promised me the privilege of taking Ms. King into custody," he said with a sly smile. "If you folks will follow me, we'll catch our ride." And the HAZMAT-attired group made their way up the long passages of the Matilda Lipsky Clinic to a back door.

Anne bit her lip. "Jim!" she whispered fiercely, "I can't stand it! My daughter--in arm's reach! For the first time in five years!"

Jim took Anne's hand. "Anne! For God's sake! Don't lose control! We've got to keep up the appearance!" He understood perfectly how his wife felt. He also wanted to smother Kim in a loving embrace.

"I've checked the security cam," said Drew's voice in Lieut. Hobble's earpiece. "There's no one outside the back entrance. And the van is waiting."

Lieut. Hobble nodded. The security measures were necessary to keep Kim hidden from accidental public view until the proper time.

Lieut. Hobble drove the van. Kim sat in the back, across from Sheila and between her parents, grasping their hands--because she was nervous about capturing the former friend-turned-enemy who had entombed her alive. "Mom! Ouch! You haven't held my hand this tight since my first day at Pre-K!"

"I know, dear," said Anne. "I'm just being a concerned parent." It took all her control not to break down emotionally.

Sheila watched Kim and her parents carefully. _This is the weak part of your plan, Drew--the Possible's maintaining their composure. I should've sedated them--and myself._ She marveled at the iron discipline they were showing.

And so the van proceeded to the Stoppable home, two loving parents savoring the presence of a dear daughter they thought never to be near to again. The bait was laid, the trap was set and the hunters proceeded patiently to their quarry.

Ron hid outside the house, using the ninja ways. He watched Tara leave in her car on some errand. He watched the van pull up and the people file out. He watched Officer Hobble, Sheila Go, Jim, Anne, and Kim go into the house.

Kim--the profile--the glimpse of red hair through the faceplate. Ron's knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists. He tried to swallow--and found he could not. His throat was too dry. The pain--it was like his heart was snagged on a fishing line and barbed hook--and was being slowly drawn out of his chest, and up through his throat.

He fought with himself. One self tried to beckon and shout to Kim. The other self struggled to keep silence, gritting his teeth. He held his arms and legs as rigid as iron to keep from running to her and embracing her. It took every iota of ninja training and concentration. His body trembled. Sweat poured from his forehead and body.

In the house, Kim looked around. "Hm. Looks like a regular house."

Lieut. Hobble nodded. "Part of the subterfuge, I'm sure."

When Tara came home, she saw the van, and wondered. And she saw Ron's car in the driveway _He's home early from the conference!_ And she ran happily into the house--.

--And then reeled in shock--.

_It was like a delirium. It was one of her nightmares coming true. A dreadful waking dream. Kim Possible's head in a fishbowl Tara was speechless with horror._

_The head's eyes blinked. The mouth moved. The head spoke. "Tara--why did you lock me in that box?" Under the fishbowl was a robot body of gleaming metal foil, like a space suit, with segmented joints. The robot body stood erect. The robot arm pointed accusingly at Tara. "It was dark! That was mean of you!"_

_Other robot cyborg monstrosities appeared in Tara's peripheral vision. Mr. and Mrs. Dr. P.'s heads in fishbowls. Angry vengeful faces._

_Tara backed up in awful fear--._

--Into the waiting arms of Lieut. Hobble.

"That's her! That's the lady who shut me in the dark! **Tara!** That was **awful**! I was so **scared**! I almost smothered! Why did you do that to me?"

The HAZMAT suits were equipped with hidden cameras and microphones. "We have what we need," said Lieut. Hobble. He cuffed Tara's hands behind her. "Mrs. Stoppable, I'm placing you under arrest for the abduction and attempted murder of Kimberly Ann Possible. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as I have...?"

Tara barely heard the words. She barely felt the bite of the handcuffs as her wrists were bound behind her. She barely saw the mingled shock, sadness, and disgust on Jim and Anne's faces. She only heard the roar of voices in her head. Her reawakened conscience, her belated remorse, and her plaintive plea for comfort, her pitiful bewilderment.

In the cold light of arrest, Tara's dread of Hell, nightmares, and Kim's vengeful ghost was fading away--and was replaced with dread of incarceration, of public scorn and disgrace, loss of home, family, and friend--

--And on a superficial level, absolute curiosity and complete bewilderment as to how Kim had escaped her imprisonment--and where she had been for the last five years.

"Kimmie--how--?" she babbled, as she passed by her former friend and would-be victim.

Kim's gaze was wide-eyed childlike resentment, with not a trace of malice.

--And she passed by Kim's mother and father. "--Jim--Anne--please--let me explain--"

As they led her from the house in handcuffs, the final blow was dealt to Tara's heart. She saw Ron--with a vicious hateful glare.

She looked back and said in a weak plaintive voice, "Ron? I love you--I did it all for you--for your good."

"I'm never going to see you again, Tara--except maybe in hell," he said with out a backward glance. Ron jumped into his car, gunned the motor, spun the wheels, and shot out into the road, the tires kicking up a spray of gravel and sod.

Tara only stared dully. She blinked as tears ran down her cheeks. Her lips moved soundlessly. _ Ron. I love you, Ron._

_**To be continued**_


	4. emotional release

dr. fan/ mai lover: what about the girl in the box, you ask? Well, here she is.

LTASZFAN: I always enjoy analyses of my stories. Makes me feel like I wrote something really profound.

Yeah. I was going for "creepy" with Tara's dream. I guessed I outcreeped myself though with my other story, "A Heroine's Legacy". Guess I'm a budding Stephen King at heart.

"Well-crafted"? Thank you, sir.

Regarding Mr. King giving his daughter away. I think--without taking the time and effort to look it up--CaptainKodak refers to her father and his "friend"--a buzzword for extramarital partner. And even divorced fathers give their daughters away. Guess I'm in that boat now. (See below.)

Katsumara, Yankee Bard, whitem, acosta perez jose ramiro, CajunBear73, thank you. Will Tara ever get beyond her denial? Will Ron ever deploy the MMP? I believe I can address those questions.

Chpt. will be short. Why? Well, chpt 6 is ready, but not chpt. 5. Bear with me, oh my readership.

Time for another update.

My output absolutely sucks. These people who can turn a dozen chpt's out in a few weeks. How do they do it?

Well--the divorce is _fait acompli_.

Found an apt. Gonna move out of what's been home for the past 24 years. Lotsa of stuff to sort through.

And what do I spend my time doing? Writing fanfiction.

Been working on the other spin-off from CaptainKodak's A Box Of Cuddlebuddies: A Heroine's Legacy. And my new Indiana Jones fic: Indiana Jones And The Face Of Uzuki. And my fic at DeviantArt: The Search For Kim's Heart. And my original fic: Kim And The Lionheart.

& I have indulged in some K.P. style humor like last chpt's pun--the name of Kim's gynecologist, Dr Olivia Varian--like _"ovarian"._ There's a new witticism--Dr. Sarah Bellum, a neurologist. Like "cerebellum". Sorry. Another awful pun.

_**THE GIRL IN THE BOX: A "BOX OF CUDDLEBUDDIES" SEQUEL**_

_**chpt. 4**_

_**Emotional release and the silent treatment**_

The little group waited until the patrol car left with Thomas Hobble taking Tara Stoppable into custody.

Kim walked out of the house and stared into the open sky.

"Kimmie-cub?" asked Mr. Dr. P. For a moment, he was afraid that Kim would begin to suspect something.

Kim sighed. "It's just--I can't explain it. I go outside every day to go to school and missions--but somehow it looks different--feels different. The sky looks so--big." She glanced back at Sheila. "Think we're safe taking off our helmets now?"

They were all alarmed for a moment. Kim thought the danger was past. And she would expose herself--not to the weapons-grade toxins that she thought Tara was manufacturing--but to the simple bacteria in the air around her.

Mr. Dr. P. spoke up. "I think Dr. Sheila would suggest that we follow protocol, Kimmie-cub--that we keep these suits on until we go through the proper decontamination back at GJ HQ."

Mrs. Dr. P. and Sheila sighed with relief. Crisis averted. Mr. Dr. P. was quick on his feet.

"Still," mused Kim, "I feel--I dunno--liberated--like I just got released from prison." She pulled out her Kimmunicator. "Wade."

The computer-generated image of Wade Load appeared. "Kim?"

"What's the sitch with Ron? Any word from him, yet?"

"Not a thing, Kim. I'll bet he's still making soufflés and casseroles at his cooking seminar."

"Doggone him," Kim fumed. "It's not like him to blow off a mission." She shrugged. "Well, I'll just have to bust his balls over it tonight."

"Kimmie-cub," said Mr. Dr. P, "I think such language is deserving of a grounding--at least until the weekend." He tried to act in character, and sound stern, as though Kim were still an adolescent living under her parents' roof, but

Kim blushed and giggled. "You're right, Daddy. Sorry. I just got carried away." She looked lost in thought for a moment. And when she turned to face her parents, it was with bright eyes and joyous tears. "Mom--Daddy--I figured it out. I'm not afraid anymore. I've been in more death traps than I could ever count--but for some reason, when Tara locked me up, it left a subconscious fear." She lifted her hands and did a little hop. "But that's gone--completely."

"Kimmie," asked Sheila, "Do you remember much of that time?"

Kim mused. "Ya know--I can hardly recall. Just that Tara closed the lid on that chamber, and Ron opened it."

Mr. and Mrs. Dr. P. stared at each other in surprise.

Sheila commented. "That's not unusual. The mind has its own defense mechanisms. Traumatic events are sometimes blocked out. Right, Anne?"

And Mrs. Dr. P. nodded. She looked questioningly at Sheila. _Is Kimmie just remembering something that didn't really happen?_

Sheila understood the question in Anne's eyes. She only shrugged. _I'm as clueless as you--but if it helps Kimmie to think that Ron freed her--well--good._

Kim hugged both her parents. "You don't know what a relief it is to have that weight off my mind." She began to cry. "Oh my God! I feel so--I'm sorry--Mom--Daddy--Dr. Sheila--I feel like I'm gonna bawl my head off--."

Sheila smiled and nodded. "Go ahead, Kimmie."

Kim dissolved into weeping. The pent-up emotions of five years of suppressed fear found their release.

And Jim and Anne Possible at last released the pent-up emotions of having their daughter within touching distance after five long years.

They opened their arms to receive their daughter. The floodgates opened and with their daughter they both sobbed.

Sheila put her arms around Kim's shoulders from behind, and the little huddle was complete.

Ron had gone some distance down the road. He slammed the brakes and the car screeched to a halt. _I've got to go back--I've got to see Kim_ He gunned the motor. Tires squealing, he turned the car around and raced back.

The patrol car passed in the oncoming lane. _That would be Tara. Do us all a favor, Officer Hobble. Put her in the holding cell with a bunch of psychos and whack jobs. Big guys. The kind that work out with weights in prison. Gang rape. Over and over. Her pinned down on the floor. While everybody gets a turn. Leave her until morning. Then go in and pick up the body. Yeah. That should do it._

Ron passed his house and pulled over.

There they were--in the huddle.

He jumped out of the car and started to run to the house--and stopped. He stared at the little group with hollow eyes. _Shit. What am I doing? I can't intrude. It would ruin everything. Besides, these are her parents. They should have this time with her._

At last, Kim said, "Oh my God, I haven't cried like that--ever!" She looked at Sheila. "Shouldn't we be getting back, Dr. Sheila?"

Sheila nodded. It was time to go. Every moment Kim spent out of the safety of her chamber was one more moment of risk of exposure.

As they all piled into the van, Anne Possible glanced back--and saw Ron's tortured expression in the distance.

Despite Sheila's concern, she took her time driving the van back. They would reverse the order they had earlier used to exit the clinic. But let her parents have this precious time with their little girl.

And Kim gripped the hand of each parent on either side of her. They leaned their heads together, speaking their love by their closeness, without words.

Ron lingered at the spot long after the van had left. He slowly got in his car and pulled out himself. He drove aimlessly for hours.

In the squad car, Tara looked unconcernedly about. Finally, she said, "You're Officer Hobble, aren't you? I've seen you around since I was in high school."

In the front seat, Lieut. Hobble nodded. "Yes, Ma-am."

"Officer Hobble, when will my husband be able to post my bail--or at least see me? We just got back from our honeymoon and I have dozens of boxes to unpack at our home."

Lieut. Hobble shook his head. "Mrs. Stoppable--you **do **understand you've been arrested for attempted murder. It's not like disturbing the peace. You'll be arraigned. And I think you'll want to see your lawyer before you see anyone else."

"That's another thing, Officer," asked Tara, mystified. "How **did **Kim make it out alive? Where has she been for the last five years?"

Lieut. Hobble turned and looked hard at Tara. "Mrs. Stoppable--I'm saying this for your own good. I **urge **you--in all sincerity--don't ask or say anything more that might implicate you further in what you're being charged with. If I were you, I wouldn't even take a deep breath before talking with an attorney."

And Tara was cowed by the stern glare of the officer.

Back at the Matilda Lipsky Clinic, Kim accompanied Dr. Sheila

They entered the airlock. "We're about to initiate decontam procedure--it's a new method. We'll be employing a bright light. Close your eyes, everyone." And while Kim and her parents closed their eyes, Sheila lifted the gloves off her HAZMAT suit. There was a blinding glare and an intense heat flash.

At the same time Drew Lipsky flipped the control that make masked the the presence of the three, and and their virtual holographic selves materialized. Kim, her holo-parents, and holo-Sheila took off their HAZMAT suits and exited the airlock. The door closed behind her, separating her from her parents.

Her father stared with a painful gaze at the door. He said the unspoken thought they all had. "We'll never be able to do this again, will we?

"We should've had more time with her," lamented Anne.

"I don't see how we can do it again in--unless we contrive another situation," said Sheila.

"But you'll be able to perform the sterilization procedure on yourself, won't you, Sheila?" asked Jim. "You'll be able to have personal contact with Kim in short order."

Both Drew and Anne were regarding Sheila. Then they looked at each other and could read each other's expression.

"Sheila," said Anne, "I'm concerned. You look rather wan." She made Sheila sit down, and she performed certain neurological tests. "Without moving your head, follow my hand." And she moved her upraised pointer finger right to left. She put their hands palm to palm. "Now push against my hands."

"Anne, I feel fine!" protested Sheila. "It's just been a very stressful day for all of us!"

Anne shook her head. "It's not acute, but there's a definite lag in your response time, and a weakness. I want you to take the day off. And I'm going to make an appointment for you tomorrow--not with me, but with a colleague--a neurologist. I'm thinking Dr. Sarah Bellum's practice."

"I have to agree with Anne, Sheila," added Drew.

Sheila shrugged. "Fine. I'll make an appointment first thing tomorrow.

"I can do even better than that, Sheila. I'll make sure you're seen tomorrow. All you have to do is show up," said Anne.

Ron stayed for many minutes after Kim and group had left. Wouldn't do to meet them on the road. He stared blankly in the direction they had gone.

The minutes became hours. Slowly, numbly, he got back in his car.

For many more minutes, he stared at the dashboard. "I gotta get home," he mumbled--and then laughed bitterly. "Fm©k! I **am **home!" Unlike earlier, he pulled out onto the road at a snail's crawl. He followed the road--wherever it went.

Ron drove everywhere in the Tri-City area--on the major highways. Then the backstreets of the residential areas. And the streets of the downtown area. And the dirt roads.

The sun sank lower in the sky. It set. Dusk came. The stars appeared. And still he drove. His cell phone chimed. One time. Many times. At last he looked at the call log. They were all from Anne Possible. At midnight he finally answered. "Hello, Mrs. Dr. P."

"Ron! We were so concerned? Where are you? Where have you been all this time?"

Ron pulled over. He gulped out his story in short terse phrases. "Mrs. Dr. P.--it's been too long--I can't feel Kim!"

Her voice was filled with concern. "Ron--what do you mean?"

He wailed in anguish. "My Mystical Monkey Power! The psychic link I had with Kim! The feeling I ignored five years ago! _**It's gone! **_I stared right at her today--and couldn't sense her!"

Anne sounded frantic. "Ron! I don't know a thing about such matters--but I'm sure there's an explanation--!"

"Anne! Don't you understand? _**I can't feel Kim! I can't feel her presence! And I can't make her feel MY presence!**_"

_**to be continued**_


	5. Chapter 5: separations & reunions

It's been a while since I updated this. I've left Kim in a delusional frame of mind, an airtight chamber, watched over by those who once tried to kill her.

Actually, I've left Kim in all sorts of dilemmas. In Saint Ron, she's being pursued by a demon intent on possessing her. In The Lion, The Treehouse, And The Naked Mole Rat, we find a pre-teen Kim and Ron in Narnia, being pursued by the White Witch. And in A Heroine's Legacy, Kim is a villain--a wicked ghoul, determined to murder her family--and Ron's grandson is equally determined to win back her soul.

greenzxr :thank you.

acosta perez jose ramiro: Yes. Big cliffhanger . Thanks. I go for emotive.

screaming phoenix : Tragedy, loss, and bitterness will continue for a while. The personal problems? They come & go. Thanks for the concern

whitem, Sentinel, & Joe Stopping hem : The MMP? Be patient. It won't work how you think it will. But it WILL work.

CajunBear73 : Kim, Ron, and Tara are still tied--but that is yet off in the future. Yes, her caregivers will need help--and friends are forthcoming to close ranks around them.

Comet Moon : Ron and Kim forever? In the next life, yes. It this--welll--just wait.

Katsumara ::If I tell you Kim and Ron will reunite, it will lead to premature expectations. I guess I'm giving you a spoiler.

All the characters are drawn from the Kim Possible Show, created by Mark McCorckle and Bob Schooley. The story is derived from the story by captainkodak1.

Tara's unmarried name, King, is from cap's story. Her parents' names? _Regina _is a play on words--from the Latin word for "king". The feel I get for the King family is "Old Wealth". So I gave her father a dignified name: "Templeton".

Wade, Jim, and Tim's grown-up appearance: derived from A Sitch in Time. Wade and Monique's marriage--sort of alluded to in Graduation. Ramesh's first name: "Parvi". I just grabbed it out of thin air. Sounded Indi. I should do a google and see if it has any negative connotations. Monique's unmarried: Knowles. I've seen it in various fic's, and just sort of figured it came from the show. Turns out i can't find any trace of it in the original material. I'm not even sure where I first saw it.

In the episode Monkey Ninjas In Space, Kim mentions swimming the English Channel and climbing Mount Everest. Since she has been in constant company with Ron since Pre-K, one must inquire when this took place. I hypothise it was during the summer Ron was Camp WannaWeep. It's the kind of thing True and Obssessed Fans stress over. I make reference to it in the story.

I threw in a little comic relief. I figure my readers might need it. I had a good laugh envisioning the tricks the Tweebs played on her--inspired by the Blush episode. But for me to laugh at my own material--that's just pitiful. Now if I can make my audience laugh--then I've accomplished something

_**THE GIRL IN THE BOX: A "BOX OF CUDDLEBUDDIES" SEQUEL**_

_**chpt. 5**_

_**separations and reunions **_

Middleton had just settled down after the flurry of the marriage of Ron and Tara Stoppable. Then word leaked that Tara Stoppable had been arrested. Lieut. Hobble didn't even try to quash the rumors.

The word finally broke when the press was allowed at Drew and Sheila's court appearance. Their attorney spoke. "In the charge of unlawfully detaining Miss Kimberly Ann Possible, and withholding medical treatment, my clients plead no contest, your honor. They also waive a trial by jury."

The world's reaction to the passing of Kim Possible five years ago had been like the observance of the funeral of a statesman or the untimely death of a beloved infant.

The news that Kim Possible was alive burst upon the world like the recovery of a long lost kidnap victim. And the news that she was in quarantine and mentally ill shocked the world like the news of a grade school massacre.

The news that the wife of her former partner and her former friend was accused hit the world like news of global war.

It was like the lurid headline of a tabloid newspaper--with paparazzi stalking everywhere. The courthouse and jail were mobbed.

Tara, her mother, and her father with his new wife and family received death threats. Kim's parents, Kim's brothers, and Ron's restaurant were the objects of attention from fans and gawkers.

One thing kept the tide of humanity at bay from the Matilda Lipsky Clinic, Kim Possible's reputed home--the appearance of Sheila Go as news cameras and news anchors began to appear.

She stalked out of the building, staring like Medusa at the crowd with her mad insane eyes. She rolled up the sleeves of her lab coat. She lifted her glowing hands and her echoing voice. "I don't give a butthole crap about freedom of the press! The first hotshot reporter or photog who tries to sneak in here is gonna be nothing but a scorch mark on the linoleum! **Ya got me?**"

And they got her.

People stopped by Regina King's house, to stare, take pictures and even rip up pieces of sod for souvenirs.

People started to take pictures of the cistern. So they had it broken up and sold piece by piece to the obsessed souvenir collectors and gave the proceeds to the Matilda Lipsky Clinic

While in jail, Tara kept saying, "Ron will come. I know he'll come."

The district attorney requested a meeting with the defense attorney. "We'd like to discuss an arrangement. A plea bargain."

"My client is not inclined to accept an offer," said the defense attorney. "She contends that Miss Possible represented a very real threat to Mr. Stoppable's safety."

To which the district attorney countered. "You're grasping at straws. We both know--that girl won't last a year in prison--or even jail. All the crazies will flock to her like sharks to blood. But if she pleads no contest, we'll see that she gets sent to the very best psychiatric facility--Meadow Acres. Park-like grounds. Individualized therapy. Private, secluded, and secure."

Ron had the marriage annulled. He then went to the house and packed up every item of Tara's--every scrap of clothing, furniture, dishware--every appliance, book, video, and audio. And other items that had belonged to Tara. Or that he and Tara had purchased together. Or he had given to Tara. All the wedding gifts--including their wedding album--he crammed it all into a rented trailer and then parked the trailer on her mother's property. And he never again went back to the house that had been his and Tara's.

Regina and her former husband--Tara's father--Templeton King--met Ron.

"Mom King--Mr. King," he said, "I'm sorry. I wished this could have worked out."

Templeton silently shook Ron's hand and bowed his head with profound sorrow.

Regina warmly embraced Ron and kissed his cheek. "I understand. I'm sorry. We wish you all the best, somehow. We hope you find happiness somewhere in your life."

At their court appearance, the judge addressed them solemnly. "Dr. Lipsky and Dr. Go. Regarding your plea of no contest. The court deplores your decision to hide Kimberly Anne Possible. But the court also recognizes your invaluable contribution to the treatment of the mentally and emotionally ill. By all accounts, you have revolutionized the practice. And the court expresses its appreciation in your assistance in solving the case of Kimberly Ann Possible's abduction. I hereby suspend your sentence and accept the recommendation of the state's attorney and the parents of Ms. Possible that you be allowed to continue your practice. Case closed." And the gavel came down.

As soon as the first tidal wave of publicity had washed over everyone, messages began to trickle in to the Matilda Lipsky Clinic--messages from old associates and acquaintances in the trade--on both sides of the law, super heroes and villains alike.

Jim and Anne called their sons to their home.

Anne addressed them both at once. "Jim--Tim--we're so sorry not to have told you--but we had to work through our own anger with Drew and Sheila. Lieut. Hobble urged us to keep it a secret until Tara could be apprehended and charged. We told Ron because we felt he was entitled as much as any person alive to know--both because of the bond he and Kimmie had--and because Tara was his wife.

Jim and Tim had both grown into fine young men, taller than even their Uncle Slim--and certainly taller than their father.

They spoke as they used to, each completing the other's sentence.

"Mom--Dad--"

"--We're not mad. At either of you--"

"--Or even at Drew or Sheila."

"We can see how you had to keep it quiet until Tara was arrested."

"WTF--we're not even mad at Tara. She's one messed up chick."

"She lost Ron. And she's locked up at the happy house."

"What she did to Kim got done to her. She has no life."

"And we can even understand how Drew and Sheila might have gotten scared of being accused."

"At first we wanted to do something drastic--"

"--But after hearing you guys talk how you worked through all your feelings--"

"--And how Sheila and Drew have been taking care of Kim nonstop for all this time--"

"--We decided--"

"--It's wasted effort."

"Hell--we just want to see Kim."

Anne hugged her sons and fought not to weep.

"I think we can arrange that," said Jim.

Drew and Sheila spoke together in reminiscence the night after their court appearance. .

"Sheila--I can't help feeling sad--t's the end of a period in our lives--a period that started when my cousin Ed found Kimberly Ann's backpack in his dumpster."

"I know, D. We had just helped Kimmie and Ron defeat the Lowardians. It was your first plan that ever succeeded."

"Those two put a good word in for me with Global Justice. Every country in the world offered us amnesty."

"They offered you the medal at the U.N. for saving the world. It was the first time I had worn a formal dress in my life."

"Worldwide recognition. It was almost like world conquest. But having you beside me meant more to me than all the heads of state and all the ambassadors."

"You did a bigger thing than Team Go ever did, D. I felt as nervous as a school girl."

"You and me, Sheila. I never thought I would feel like that about my domineering sidekick."

"And then after all the good stuff--Tara King had to pull that sh!t on Kimmie."

"It's a shame. She wasn't trying to conquer the world--or steal a fortune. Just make time with Ron Stoppable. And her death trap succeeded--better than mine."

"It felt so good to rescue Kimmie. But here we were--newly pardoned felons. I was so afraid we would be blamed for it."

"We both were. Maybe what we did was stupid."

"We were young and in love, Drew. You were a nerd--just like Jim Possible. Just like Ron Stoppable. And you did to me what they did to Anne and Kim. I fell head-over-heels in love with you. I was as afraid of losing what we had as you were. Maybe more so. You were misguided mad scientist. I was a cheap career criminal."

And for just a moment, Drew sounded like the old reproving Drakken. "Sheila! I strongly object to your self-characterization!" And then his voice became touched with love and awe. "You've risen head and shoulders above being a 'cheap career criminal"! You've been a second mother to Kim!"

"It's like she's my little girl."

"We've cared for her day and night for the past five years."

"And now we're out from under the cloud of suspicion. We're really legit, now--but I feel like we're losing a child."

"It's right to restore her to Jim and Anne, Sheila. But you're right, too. I never thought I could grow so attached to our old foe."

"We'll make it, Drew. We'll get past it."

Drew fell silent. And Sheila gathered to her bosom a man who had once desired to dominate the planet--but who had instead had been bested by an intangible force. Taken from him was the mad ambition to unleash technological fury on his enemies. His heart had been broken by the pathetic plight of his former archenemy. His weapon had been snatched from his hands. And in its place was a gift of healing, and a heart of gentleness.

Anne Possible arrived at the Matilda Lipsky Clinic the next day with her sons.

Sheila gave them an admiring eye. "Wow! You two have grown! You guys are bigger than my brothers. Maybe I hooked up too soon with my Dr. D!"

Drew jibed her good-naturedly. "Maybe I could hire them to get some work done while you're drooling over their pec's!"

They all went to Kim's containment unit.

Drew explained. "As your parents have probably told you--your sister is continually living out different parts of her life in a non-sequential order. Yesterday, she was swimming the English Channel with her Nana, at the tender age of eleven. Today she's a high school sophomore getting ready for a date with Ron."

Jim and Tim looked puzzled.

"In tenth grade, she was dating--"

"--Josh Mankey."

Drew shrugged. "Her love for Ron is the single constant in all her shifting mental states. We've programmed the holographic chamber to detect the state of mind according to what she says and does, and it responds with the appropriate scenario. Your parents have explained the real-time neural interface?"

They nodded.

Drew held up two headsets.

The twins looked at each other slyly.

"What are you two planning?" asked Anne, with a hint of parental reproof in her voice.

"Oh--nothing much."

"Just some brotherly love."

In the holo-world, Kim finished brushing her hair and applying her lip gloss. "Mom! Dad! I'm leaving now! Ron will be here in a minute!"

"Enjoy the movie, dear," called Mrs. Dr. P.

"Home by ten, Kimmie-Cub," said Mr. Dr. P."

Kim grabbed up her purse and rushed out the door--only to hear a snickering pair of voices.

"It's the Attack of the Love Cooties!"

"Smooch! Smooch!"

Kim glared at her brothers. "You--Tweebs! Oooh!" And she slammed the door.

They high-fived each other.

"Hushah! You ready?"

"Hickaboo! Let's do this!"

And at 9:45 PM, Kim came bursting back into the house, eyes blazing and hair askew. "Mom! Dad! I am so going to **kill** those two!"

Her parents tried to calm her down.

"Kimmie--I'm sure the night wasn't a total disaster. Your brothers just meant to have a little fun," said Mrs. Dr. P.

"Fun?" she screeched. "They dressed up as Embarrassment Ninjas!"

"Exactly what did they do?" asked Mr. Dr. P.

"What **didn't **they do? Sneeze powder! Fart gas! Whoopee cushions! Pictures of me being potty-trained on the movie screen! Fake spiders! Ron screamed louder than I did! I had to practically peel him off the ceiling! The whole theater full of people were laughing their heads off! And the manager gave those two free passes for making the crowd so happy! Ooh! It'll take me five years to live this down!" And off she stomped to her loft.

And on the real-life side of the holo-chamber, the grown-up brothers embraced each other, and wept unashamed, in both joy and sorrow. Anne embraced her sons.

Drew and Sheila stood nearby, wiping their eyes.

Jim and Tim were reunited with their long-lost sister--and yet permanently separated by the wall that both protected and imprisoned her.

On another day, Anne came with friends. "Drew, I've brought someone. You knew each other in another lifetime. Dr. Drew Lipsky, I'd like you to meet Dr. Wade Load, and his wife Monique Knowles Load. Wade, I'd like you to meet--again--Dr. Drew Lipsky and Dr. Sheila Go."

Wade had grown tall--a head taller than even Jim Possible. He looked fit--rugged. He took Drew's hand and shook it gravely. "This is an answer to prayer." It was a rich baritone voice. "I've been watching your work for years. And I had my suspicions--but I knew that if Kim **were** here--it must be for a reason. Because I've seen the change in you."

It took Drew a moment to speak. "If there was anyone who was as instrumental to foiling Dr. Drakken's plans for conquering the world as Kim Possible, it was you. And if there was anyone whom I was afraid would breach my security perimeter and find Kim here, it was you."

Wade smiled. A warm understanding smile. I've read about your life, Dr. Lipsky. The rejection of your work in robotics by the scientific community. And I've read about your life, Dr. Go. The rejection of your contribution to Team Go by your brothers." The smile broadened. "I understand rejection. I was a fat little kid of color who had a doctorate in computer science at age ten. The established members of the academic community often take a dim view of child prodigies. They consider them intruders--a momentary phenomen."

Drew took Anne aside. "There's a matter we haven't addressed, Anne. A topic I thought you and Jim would broach first. Kim's custody. I've been thinking about arrangements."

Jim approached and took his wife's hand. "**We've** been addressing it, Drew--Anne and I. And we've hatched an idea." He turned around. "Wade--would you join us?"

And Wade's towering presence overshadowed them all. "I couldn't tell you who came up with the idea first, Dr. Lipsky. I think it was one of these two." He motioned with his head toward Mr. and Mrs. Dr. P.

Jim shook his head. "I'm sure it was my wife--or Wade."

"The point is, Drew," said Anne, looking around at the other two men, "If these two modest geniuses will get to it, is that we'd like to propose a collaboration."

"I believe we could do great things together, Dr. Lipsky." Wade smiled warmly.

"This would entail a lot of time and expense," said Anne, "But--Drew--Sheila--Jim and I would like to see a hermitic holographic unit built at Tri-City Medical Center. I want to have my Kimmie near me."

Jim spoke. "I would like to apply my cybertronics expertise, Drew." He smiled sheepishly. "It might atone for the laughter Chen, Ramesh, and I had at your expense when you approached us about applying your robotics expertise to a dating service."

"And it would atone for the time you used my holographic image to fool Kim," said Wade with a twinkle in his eye. But he grew serious. "You and I should have should have conferred long before this. Imagine what breakthroughs would have occurred."

"--Or still can occur," said Sheila. She smirked. "Think what you two could come up with. The Nerdlinger and Dr. D. A new death ray-mind control-hair dryer-cable gun."

Everyone in the group laughed merrily. It was a healing laughter. The old animosities were gone.

And so began a series of meetings. Bob Chen, Parvi Ramesh, Drew Lipsky, and Jim Possible. The old college living sitch--with the inclusion of Wade Load. They met at Drew's clinic--at Wade's home--at the Mt. Middleton Astronomical Observatory

But the place of most frequent meeting was the home of Jim and Anne Possible.

They set up shop in both Jim's home office and the living room.

And at one meeting, Bob Chen blurted out. "Hey--I just noticed--we've all been so enthusiastic over this project--where's Ron Stoppable been?"

There was nervous silence. Like a giant pink rabbit, it was the big complex dilemma that everyone noticed and no one mentioned.

"Yeah," muttered Sheila. "The Brain Trust is putting its time in. Where's the one Kimmie really cares for most--the one who should care most for her?"

Anne spoke quietly but with finality. "Ron has to work through some issues. He's as much a victim of all this as Kim is. I'm sure when it's the right time, we'll see him."

_**to be continued**_

And we'll see what those issues are--and the appearance of other old villains--and the fate of Tara King.


	6. Ch 6:even her enemies shall honor her

My fic's are like a nest full of baby birds with their mouths open--and I must decide which one gets fed.

I should mention--I had loads of fun writing 2 parts of the last chpt. 1st--where Sheila threatens to reduce any tabloid reporter or photographer to a "scorch mark on the linoleum". And 2nd--where the Tweebs prank Kim.

I should also mention the story behind Tara's arrest. It was quite a roadblock, getting that plot bunny from mind to page. I had it set up in my head based on an old episode of Star Trek The Next Generation. Ambassador Spock and Captain Picard confront Tasha Yar's daughter, a Romulan captain. They hide behind holographic partitions. I thought about having Drew explain it first, and it just became a hopeless hodgepodge. Then I sat down one night in my sanctum, and it came to me word by word

Let me throw this in regarding the direct neural interface between outside viewers and the program of Kim's holographic chamber. It's a writer's wish to make the science sound as plausible as possible--from Jules Verne to Michael Crichton

I include these lines from a couple shows. First--from Spiderman 2. Alfred Molina as Dr. Octavius is explaining how the arms work.

…(These) actuators…(the) smart arms are controlled (his) brain through a neural link. Nano-wires feed directly into (his) cerebellum, allowing (him) to use (the) arms...

Second--from the Kim Possible episode, Vir-Tu-Ron. Transcript dialogue courtesy of KPFanworld.

**Nevius:** The missing project was next generation gaming technology, a way to plug the five senses directly into the game world.**Kim:** Ouch.**Nevius:** Not literally. The player would just wear what we call... an immersion cap. Slip it on, and zap! You're in Everlot!**Kim:** So it's like virtual reality?**Nevius:** More like actual reality, really. It's not quite as real as reality but we're really, really close. 

Like Homer and Aesop of ancient Greece--like the medieval troubadour--like the guy at the campfire--I tell my tales. Some borrowed characters and plots--some original material--some comedy--some tragedy.

acosta perez jose ramiro, Mr. Wizard, Comet Moon, Joe Stoppinghem, Katsumara, CajunBear73, Sentinel103, screaming phoenix, and everybody--thank you. Trudging my way through my old reviews--and through the journey of life.

Ron, Tara, and Kim are just achin' to get out on stage and strut their stuff--but the obsessed stage manager, producer, director, and writer--all of me--are making sure everything's up to snuff.

All char's are from the K.P. show, by McCorckle and Schooley. Plot based on the story by captainkodak1.

Proverbs 16:7. When a man's ways please the LORD, He makes even his enemies to be at peace with him. 

_**THE GIRL IN THE BOX**_

_**chpt 6**_

_**even her enemies shall be at peace her**_

The Middleton Neurosurgery Association, located in the office building of the Tri-City Medical Center had an early morning visitor.

"Hiya, Ruth. I'm here for my appointment."

"Yes, Dr. Go," said the receptionist. "Dr. Possible is just finishing up with a previous patient. She'll see you in a moment."

Sheila Go sat and nervously flipped through the magazines. Suddenly she looked up to see Anne Possible in the doorway of the waiting room.

"Hello, Sheila," said Anne brightly. "I'll see you now."

Sheila stood up, muttering. "I'm a doctor and a mental health professional--I live with a doctor--my best friends are doctors--but I hate going to see the doctor."

Anne led her to the office. She did not sit behind the desk, but sat next to Sheila, holding the dreaded manila folder.

Sheila put up the brave front. "Well, Anne, What's the prognosis?"

Anne looked somberly at Sheila.

"I used to hate it when Drew looked at me that way. It made me want to nail him with a shot of plasma," grumbled Sheila. "He was mad at Kimmie--or me--or Dementor--or whoever."

Anne spoke slowly and deliberately. "Sheila--you can take as many shots you want at me. But I'm afraid your days of irradiating yourself are done--unless you want to find yourself in a wheelchair with a feeding tube and a colostomy bag."

Sheila lifted an eyebrow and smirked sadly. "That's something Drew never did--shoot straight from the hip."

Anne closed the manila folder. "I know what this means, Sheila--both for you and Kimmie."

"And that's why I'll tolerate hearing it from you, Anne--because I know what it's like to feel like to be a mother to Kimmie."

Anne sighed. And covered her eyes with her hand. Suddenly the file slipped from her hand. The papers spilled from the floor.

"Anne?" Sheila stood from her chair in alarm. "Listen! I didn't mean it to sound like I'm auditioning to be Kim's surrogate mother."

Her professional demeanor was gone. Anne bent over to try and help Sheila gather the fallen papers. "It's not that. It's just--at least we had you to provide some real human contact with Kimmie--and now that's gone."

Sheila had gathered up all the papers. "Hey--buck up--the Brain Trust will come up with something--it's a regular Poindexter Militia."

Anne laughed sadly. "I know. But it's Ron, too. He's quit his job. He's become a recluse. Even I can hardly talk to him."

_Oh, Sidekick_, thought Sheila to herself. _Everyone's on board--even Kimmie's old opponents! Imagine! Me and Nerdlinger--on the same team! Why do you have to be the only holdout?_

Anne smiled sadly. Of course Sheila would feel that it was her duty to undergo the ordeal so she could interact personally with Kimmie.

And, as Kim's mother and Ron Stoppable's surrogate mother, she had her own thoughts.

_And--I haven't told anyone--that's why Ron is holding back. He blames Drew and Sheila for Kimmie's condition as much as he blames Tara. But he blames himself for not finding her before they did. If he doesn't see Kim, it's to punish himself out of shame. And if he does see Kim at Drew's facility, it'll seem like he's giving Drew the stamp of approval. It would be like implying that Drew and Sheila did for Kim what Ron couldn't do. _

_Oh, Ron--why do you have to make this so complicated? You think Drew saved Kim's life but killed her soul. Don't you see? It's so simple--you love her, you go to her._

Sheila returned from her visit to Anne Possible. She and Drew kissed.

Drew waited expectantly for her to speak first.

Sheila shook her head glumly. "It's what we afraid of--." She bit her lip, unable to finish.

Drew sighed. "Well--we foresaw this--the possibility of gradual neurological damage, culminating in loss of bodily function."

Sheila blinked. Her eyes glistened with moisture. "That's almost verbatim what Dr. Bellum's report said." She gazed at Drew. "Maybe I could risk a few more times! Drew--you always wanted to clone me--maybe you could--I dunno--clone nerve endings."

Drew shook his head firmly. "No! Absolutely not! I will not practice Russian roulette medicine with you as a guinea pig!"

Sheila sighed dejectedly. "Then we've lost an avenue of Kimmie's treatment."

Drew took her into his arms. "This is only a setback. We'll find a way to compensate. I have faith."

Sheila nestled in Drew's embrace. _He's always had this child-like optimism. I've always been the practical one in this partnership. But what the heck--practicality would've let Kimmie die of the mold infection five years ago. He's right--go with your strengths--and this is his strength._

She kissed him again. "Well, D--we gotta clinic to run. And work is the best therapy I know." She winked at him and went to resume her work

Drew watched her go. _I'm the luckiest man in the world--and she's gone through more than anyone should have to. That phone call I got--the people coming to see us today--that might be what she needs._

"Good morning, Dr. Go." said Wilma, the office manager.

"Morning, Wilma. What's the schedule looking like today? Anything big?"

There was some tittering among the staff. Wilma shushed them.

Sheila Go looked up confused. "What--is my make-up out of place?"

"No--not that," hedged Wilma.

"Then, is it my hair? My shoes and stockings aren't mismatched--I can see them!"

Wilma tried to hold a serious face. "Wellll--"

"C'mon, Wilma--what's the deal? Is there a sign on my back? 'Hassle the doctor'?"

Wilma could barely suppress a smile. "We have some--"

"Some--what, Joint Commission inspectors? Appliance repairmen? Pixies selling cookies? Spill, willya?"

"Some--unscheduled visitors."

Sheila sighed. "Oh, great. Patients? Families? If they're patients, have them fill out the paperwork. If they're families, Drew or myself will see them as soon as we can--"

A voice behind her answered in a thick German accent. "Nein, Fr-r-raulein. Fr-r-riends!"

Sheila whirled around, smiling broadly. "Demense! You old Weiner schnitzel!"

It was Wilhelm Demense--the former Dr. Dementor. Sheila jumped into his embrace. He chuckled. "You haff gr-r-rown only mor-r-re beautiful, Fr-r-rlien Sheila! Und vere iss der chr-r-ronic complainer mit der shmall hands?"

Dr. Drew Lipsky hurried in. "That voice! That voice could make squeaky chalk sound like Mozart."

They laughed and shook hands vigorously.

"Hello, Demense."

"Hallo, Lipshky. Wie geht's?"

Wilma nudged Sheila. "Some more people are waiting, too.

Sheila looked past the two men.

The Tenth Earl of Westchesterwick, Lord Montgomery Fiske, and his wife, Dame Amelia, the former Dr. Hall, or DNAmy

She had lost some weight and let her hair grow. And some dental work. She was ravishing.

Fiske had the same brooding somber mannerisms. If anything, he looked even more formal in his dark suit. But there was an impression of contentment about him

And a suave urbane Spanish gentleman. Olive Mediterranean skin. Silver hair. Dapper dresser. Ascot neckerchief. The only gaudy thing about him was the silver cane tipped with a gem.

Sheila's eyes lit up like a child on Christmas. "Monty! Amy! Señor Senior! Aaaaah!" Her voice was a falsetto squeal.

Amy and Sheila danced around like excited fan girls

"Amy!" said Sheila. "I can't believe it! You are so glam!"

"Oh, Sheila!" said Amy. "Aren't you the sweetest thing?"

"And how about me, lassie? Have ye nae a lovin' embrace for a lonely highlander?"

It was a burly man--wearing his kilt, beret, and tartans, and knee socks. The only thing he lacked was his old golf bag.

"Killigan!" Sheila bear-hugged him and lifted him bodily off the ground. "Oh! I missed this beard!" She tugged his beard and kissed his cheek. "And this bald head!" She snatched the beret off his head and kissed it.

There was laughter and hugs--and misty eyes and more hugs.

Like a noble courtier of another age, Señor Senior, Sr, bowed and kissed Sheila's hand.

It made her giddy._ OMG! The old man really knows how to make a lady's heart beat faster! A lotta guys could stand to take gallantry lessons from him!_

She felt her cheeks flush. To distract herself, she nodded to his cane and asked, "Is that a real diamond?"

Señor Senior, Sr. sighed. "Alas, the insurers will not cover it if I take it abroad. So I leave the genuine article in my vault at home. This is Austrian crystal." He smiled and raised a finger. "And speaking of home--I have someone who wishes most desperately to converse with you. A moment please--." He pulled a cell phone from his suit coat. "Hello? Junior?"

Sheila took the phone. She barely got it to her ear when a squeaky highpitched voice broke in.

"Oh, Miss Sheila! When Papi told me he was going to see you, I could barely restrain my excitement!"

Sheila had to brush a tear from her eye. "Hey, Junior! You keepin' up on your Tai Chi?"

"Oh, Miss Sheila! I hardly have the time! What with my multifaceted career as an international pop singing sensation, producer, promoter, crime novelist--"

Sheila chuckled. "Crime novelist? That's a new one."

"Yes. Papi said I should write what I know about."

When the excitement settled, Señor Senior, Sr. gestured broadly, as though gathering them all about him. "My friends--my former fellow associates in villainy--tradition demands that when a noble adversary falls upon hard times, we must assist that fallen foe so that the great struggle may continue."

Monty chuckled. "And what tradition is that, Señor Senior?"

The Spaniard shrugged nonchalantly. "Why--a tradition I am fabricating at this very moment."

They all laughed.

"But to be serious," he continued, "When word broke only weeks ago of Miss Possible's plight, and of the splendid work these two, the former Team Drakken, have begun, I decided I was not to be outdone. I have applied my wealth and abilities to foment villainous plots to good effect. Those whom I could, I have gathered here. I have rented out the penthouse floor at the Hotel Upperton, and all the out-of-towners are my guests."

"Laddie," said Duff, "So long as ye keep the larder stocked and the drink a'flowin', a circus tent and a collection of cots would suffice fer this motley crew."

And there was uproarious laughter again.

Sheila wiped her eyes and tugged on Drew's sleeve. "Hey, D! Did you know this was going to happen?"

Drew shrugged. "I might have gotten a phone call this morning."

She cuffed his shoulder. "Jerk! You know I hate it when you surprize me!" And she began to sniffle. "You guys--seeing you all--this is just so fantastic--." And she began to bawl. "--And I hate like hell to cry."

Drew nudged Señor Senior, Sr. "It's the Moodulator. She hasn't been the same since it was stuck to her for an entire day."

She cuffed his shoulder again. "Prick! I should make you sleep on the sofa!"

There was tender laughter. Both Señor Senior, Sr. and Monty offered Sheila a kerchief. Amy put a comforting arm around Sheila's shoulders. "Sweetie--we love you, too."

Señor Senior, Sr. put a hand on Drew's shoulder. "Dr. Lipsky--word has spread that you are constructing a new facility at the Tri-City Medical Center so that our young lady might be near her mother--and that there is an association of yourself, Dr. Possible, Dr. Load, and numerous others joined in the common purpose."

Drew nodded. "That's true."

The Spaniard smiled expansively. "Then let me also join in this noble effort. I have founded a nonprofit trust. It will be administered by Francis Lurman and Hank Perkins. Sizable donations have already been contributed by myself and Mr. Brotherson, and Philippe Bullion."

"Frugal Lucre and Temp?" Drew threw his head back and laughed. "So, those two finally found a useful niche."

Señor Senior, Sr. winked. "I had thought about asking Jack Hench and my former accountant Vincent Wheeler--but those two are even bigger thieves than we are. Aside from which--Mr. Wheeler is sharing a prison cell with Roland Pond."

"The O-Boyz manager?" Drew's hilarity only increased.

And after a moment, he shook Señor Senior's hand gravely. "You don't know what this means--the good it can. From the bottom of my heart--and on behalf of all the people here at the Institute, and their patients and families--thank you." Drew had to dab his own eyes with a tissue.

"There is another old tradition, my friend," said Señor Senior, Sr. solemnly. "When one who is adored becomes indisposed, those who love her and hold her dear come to pay her respects. We have come--each of us--to humbly pay our compliments and homage to that remarkable young lady who completes all of us. We have come to see Kimberly Ann Possible."

_**to be continued**_


End file.
